


Camp Little Paw

by rarepairenabler, softywolf



Series: Tes and Amber Write Stuff Together [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fire Not Caused By Kate, M/M, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/pseuds/rarepairenabler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/softywolf/pseuds/softywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek’s parents die in a house fire, Derek moves back to Beacon Hills to take care of his younger sisters. He finds himself entrusted with the responsibility of running his family’s camp – Little Paw. Despite hating everything about camp, including s’mores and dumb campfire songs, Derek takes on the role of Camp Director. He does so while secretly praying he doesn’t finish the next two weeks with some sort of law suit on his hands. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but it proves long enough to mend family bonds and to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: the lovely [Allie](http://www.youshinebrighter21.tumblr.com/).

            The last thing Derek wanted was to be in charge of his family's summer camp. His life was good. He was _happy_. It was easier to breathe in the concrete jungle that was New York than it was in Beacon Hills where he was always surrounded by family or someone who knew his family. He could find himself without his family defining who he was.

            And then he got a phone call from his parents’ lawyer. He felt like his entire world was being pulled out from under his feet and flipped upside down as the feminine voice informed him that his parents were dead, caught in a house fire while his two younger sisters were at school.

            That was all it took to get him to pack his bags and book the first flight back to his hometown. He bought a loft downtown with enough room for his sisters and himself. He was squished between Laura and Cora at the funeral. He visited his comatose uncle Peter in the hospital nearly every day after he returned. He grieved with his sisters, for his sisters, for his _family_. And when summer finally came around, he was stuck with the task of running Camp Little Paw.

            “Oh, come on, Der. It’s really not that bad,” Laura said as she rubbed his back.

            Derek grunted, taking in the sight of the broken equipment, the ugly green shutters on all of the cabins, the withered cables and the rusty pipes. The place was a mess.

            His mess now, apparently. The camp would have gone to Peter, but it was obviously impossible for him to run it in his present condition. After him, the best option would have been Laura, but she was still too young.

            “No. I’m actually pretty sure it is,” he groaned, taking a seat on one of the sofas in the office.

            “It just needs a little work. I’m not even sure why you’re complaining. Did your last place even have plumbing? Electricity? This place should practically feel like home for you. This is going to be great, and if you even try to rain on my parade with all your angst so help me I will ruin you. Now, help me cook the hotdogs. Campers will be here any minute.”

            “I haven’t camped in over three years, Laur. I can’t paint on a canvas, let alone on some poor child’s face. I’m an awful swimmer, I hate bugs, I don’t know any camp songs to sing around the fire and the last time I tried roasting a marshmallow, Mom had to drive me to the hospital because I got first degree burns. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

            “Which is why we’re here,” Cora shrugged as they led Derek out of the cabin and towards Laura’s car where she was keeping the hotdogs, buns and Styrofoam plates. “It’s going to be okay. By the time this summer is over you’re going to wonder why you ever hated camping.”

            “Since when do you like camping, anyway?”

            Cora grinned, shrugging as she handed him a bag of buns. “Didn’t Laura tell you? I’m a camp counselor this year. Which means I’m actually being paid – by you – to boss around little kids. It’s the gig of a lifetime.”

            Derek watched with a constipated look on his face as campers began to trickle into the camping grounds, each with a suitcase or two in hand. A police car rolled to a stop in front of him, the passenger door swinging open as a kid practically leapt from his seat.

            “Thanks for the ride! See you in a few weeks,” he called, scrambling for his things before a man dressed in a police uniform reached over and grabbed him by the back of his shirt’s collar. The man hauled him up before fixing him with a look of disapproval.

            “Not so fast. Where exactly do you think you’re going?” the man asked and the kid ducked his head.

            “Uh. Camp?”

            “We’re not going to have any incidents this year, are we?”

            “What? Why would you ever even assume-“

            “Stiles.”

            “I mean I’d never-“

            “Stiles. Am I going to have to come pick you up halfway through the week because of a phone call informing me my son somehow managed to flood his cabin-“

            “Dad, that was like, one time,” the kid - _Stiles_ \- grimaced, his arms flailing as he tried to pull out of the grasp. “And the other times were just minor misunderstandings. It’ll be different this time. I’m a counselor, remember?”

            “Oh god. Don’t remind me. They’re actually paying you to corrupt youths now,” the officer sighed, rolling his eyes as he let go of his son.

            “Uh huh. Let’s not pretend like you’re not eager to get rid of me. The second you get home you’ll probably order a meat lovers’ pizza. You probably have an entire box of donuts hidden under the seat of your car that you’re gonna eat the second I’m out of sight,” Stiles accused, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried peering through the squad car window.

            “Oh for the love of- Stiles. There’s nothing in the car. Just grab your stuff and promise me you won’t be spending half your paycheck paying for damages,” his dad pleaded as he grabbed Stiles’ suitcase from him and hauled it towards cabin number five.

            “Ooh, great. Stiles is here,” Cora smiled as she dug a set of keys out of her pocket.

            “Is he a regular here?” Derek asked, his eyebrows rising as he wondered what kind of miscreants his parents had to put up with during their years as director and co-director of the camp.

            Cora nodded. “Has been ever since he spent an entire summer playing World of Warcraft. Apparently grounding was a failed tactic and his father decided to exile him here instead.”

            “Lucky us,” Derek groaned and Cora shot him a look.

            “He’s not so bad really. The last few incidents were just misunderstandings.  Anyway, I’m going to go help them unpack and settle in. Make sure to give out the camp schedules when the rest of the campers get here.” Derek rolled his eyes at his sister but mumbled an ‘Alright’. Then he readjusted his arms-crossed-head-held-high stance with his eyes narrowed at the kids coming in late.

            “So who is running this place anyway after…,” Stiles trailed off, biting his lip as he stared apologetically at Cora. Cora nodded as if she’d expected the question and tugged his suitcase from his hand before tossing it on top of one of the higher bunks.

            “That would be Derek,” she replied.

            “Derek. As in Hale?”

            “No. As in Stilinski. A long lost relative. He only wears ugly graphic tees, he’s allergic to anything that isn’t plaid and he keeps making obscure pop culture references while giggling uncontrollably at his own jokes. The resemblance is uncanny,” she grinned, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed onto his sleeve and steered him outside of the cabin. “Yes. As in Hale, dumbass. He's my older brother.”

            Stiles wrenched himself from her grip but still trailed closely behind as she led him towards the main dining area where most of the campers usually met for breakfast and dinner.

            “Well, excuse me for assuming I’d already met all of the Hales. I mean, I thought this was a family-run establishment and it was, like, obligatory for every single member of the Hale clan to spend their summers catering to my every whim. Even Peter used to visit occasionally.”

            Cora snorted and shook her head but didn’t acknowledge him beyond that.

            “Good to see some things haven’t changed. Don't think I didn't notice that you haven’t gotten any nicer.”

            “Yeah, and you’re no less of a pain in my ass,” she smiled sweetly as she held the door open, leg jutting out in the hopes of tripping him.

            “You say the sweetest things, truly.”

            “I try,” she shrugged as she took a seat beside Scott and waited with the others for the mysterious Hale known as Derek to make his introduction speech.

            “You really don’t,” Stiles laughed, scooting in beside Danny who shot him a quick glare of suspicion before returning to his conversation with Jackson. Stiles couldn’t help but feel curious about this Derek person. No Hale had ever eluded him before.

            Based on the information Stiles had gathered about the Hale family over the past few years as a camp attendee, he could pretty much guarantee Derek would be a) stunningly attractive (what on Earth was wrong with them? Were they all taking steroids? Did they have a family discount to some sort of super beauty store?) b) he was snarky as hell c) he probably had the habit of being aggressive for no apparent reason. All characteristics shared between the Hales.

            Laura Hale stood on top of one of the wooden tables and blew the whistle that was dangling around her neck, her scarlet lips tightened around the whistle and her cheeks puffed out. She wore a red ‘Camp Little Paw’ shirt with a tiny white wolf paw beneath the words, tucked into high-waisted shorts. Dark, wavy brown hair fell around her shoulders and Stiles wondered how it managed to stay so perfect when she spent more than half of her time underwater as an Olympic swimmer. It was the Little Paw conspiracy. Stiles was convinced she must be part mermaid.

            “Campers, I’d like to introduce you to our new camp director, Derek Hale. As you all know, a terrible tragedy took place a few months ago involving a house fire and my parents won’t be returning this year,” Laura paused, her eyes dampening as she peered around the room at the campers and staff who were staring up at her in anticipation.

            “On the bright side, Little Paw isn’t at risk of becoming any less awesome than it always has been and Camp Silver Creek still doesn’t stand a chance in this year’s game of Capture the Flag,” she smiled weakly and a few people whooped and cheered in response. “Please give my brother a warm welcome. He’s a bit of a city slicker but it shouldn’t take too long for Cora and me to show him the ropes. This place will be running smoothly in no time.” She brightened as the room broke into applause and her brother ducked his head. Stiles had never seen a grown man blush before but the guy looked completely flustered.

            “Ohmygod, are those bunny teeth?” Stiles crooned, perching his chin on his folded hands and watching Derek with adoration in his eyes.

            Scott swatted him over the head. “Stiles. No.”

            “What?” Stiles gasped, staring at his best friend with wide brown eyes as if he’d been deeply betrayed.

            “No.”

            “No what?”

            “You’ve had a weird crush on nearly every Hale. You’re practically already swooning.”

            “Okay. First of all, the Hales are both terrifying and hot in equal parts. The question is why don’t _you_ have weird, inappropriate crushes on them? Second of all - rude. I was not swooning. I don’t swoon. I was manfully ogling.”

            Laura passed the microphone off to her brother Derek before leaping gracefully off the table. Stiles was surprised she’d opted out of doing a back flip or something. That was another thing he’d learned about the Hales over the years: they all were ridiculously talented gymnasts without having received any training. Show offs, the whole lot of them. It was like someone had created the perfect human beings but had been unable to program them with more agreeable personalities. So, the experiments had been unleashed into society and now ran a summer camp.

            Derek cleared his throat and tugged nervously on his already obscenely deep V-Neck before speaking. “I know I’m pretty new at this, but try to be patient with me. Tonight we’ll be hosting my mother’s favourite camp event: the Little Paw talent show. So don’t forget to sign up if you’re feeling up to it. Later you can join us by the campfire for some fun.”

            Stiles smirked to himself over the way Derek’s jaw clenched as he said the word fun, like giving this speech was some form of punishment to him.

            “Or you can head to your cabin early. Remember that curfew is at ten and that the staff and I will be checking to make sure you’re all in your proper cabins and asleep. Any misbehaving will result in a suspension from camp privileges. Any complaints will result in me sending you home.”

            Stiles tried to muffle his laughter with his hand. “Yep. Totally a Hale.”

            Laura gave her brother a look that clearly expressed that she wasn’t impressed as she yanked the microphone away from him, eyes narrowed in a silent challenge before she addressed the campers again. “You know, usually we like to save the threats for day two. And on that cheery note – who wants pie?”

            “Okay, _brother of mine_ , here’s the deal. While I can't confirm whether or not the speakers are broken beyond repair, I can confirm that there may be the slight chance that they are not _not_ broken.”

            “Laura.”

            “I mean, it’s really not even a big deal. Everyone can huddle closer. Personally I think Scott’s guitar playing sounds better the less we can hear him. So what if Cora might have to shout out a few of the lines to whatever song she’s singing this year? No biggie. If anything, this might just be a good thing.”

            “Laura,” Derek huffed in exhaustion, one of his eyebrows slowly climbing up his forehead as she continued to babble.

            “We can rename it the Silent Spectacle. It’ll be great. Fantastic. Totally off-topic but do you think there are any mime outfits around here? I think I’ve figured out my routine for this year.”

            “Are you trying to tell me we have to cancel the talent show?” he asked, running his hands through his hair as he glanced up at his sister, green eyes searching her face desperately.

            “I. No? Yes? _Maybe_? Okay, fine. Cora and I sort of forgot to put the speakers back in the shed last year and a couple of raccoons got to them and they’re destroyed. But, I mean, at least now you won’t have to perform. It’s an annual tradition for us and it’s mandatory that we participate,” she frowned as she patted his back. Derek looked like he was trying to figure out ways to sink into the floor.

            “Look, it’s not that bad. It’s only one event. They’ll understand and maybe we can buy new speakers before the end of the camp season and host it then. It’s not your fault. I’ll just bring out double the chocolate for the smores and extend curfew and nobody will complain.”

            Derek’s shoulders sagged as he rested his head back to lean against one of the couch’s cushions.

            “Mom and dad trusted me...”

            “Don’t. Just don’t. This isn’t your fault and I know you didn’t want any of this. You deserve to be happy, Der. I know you’d rather be in New York with your friends...”

            “Laura,” Derek interrupted, not missing the pain in her voice.

            “But just bear with us, okay? It’s only for a few weeks and then you can go home. I’ll be old enough to take over the camp from you next year if it’s what you want,” she smiled sadly, her eyes silently pleading for him to understand. Without waiting to hear his reply, she strode out of the office.

            A few minutes later Kate Argent and her niece, Allison, barged through the door.

            “Derek. Wow. How have you been?” Kate asked as she sat down on the edge of his desk, her warm brown eyes scanning the room in amusement as the corners of her lips twitched. “God,  it’s been so long. Last time I saw you, you were this scrawny little kid who was always spiking the punch at the camp mixers and angsting around campfires,” she laughed.

            Derek snarled at her, pushing the cushion away before rising to his feet. Kate smirked as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

            “Oh, hush. No need to be so bitter. Yes, I know. It was all very tragic. Hot teenage girl dumps boyfriend at the end of the summer for older, hotter teenage boy. Sob story of the century. But maybe I didn’t trade up,” she hummed in consideration as her eyes slowly raked over his body appraisingly. “Boy, this one grew up well. Mmm. I might have to reconsider. Anyway, this is a nice little place you got here.”

            “What about it?” Derek barked.

            “I’ve had my eye on Little Paw for awhile. It’s really not fair for the past owners to leave it to some inexperienced chump like you.”

            “My parents died. In a fire,” he deadpanned.

            Kate’s smug smirk disappeared, replaced by a soft look of compassion that Derek had rarely ever seen from her before. “And I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this has been for you. I mean, you’ve not only lost both your parents but you’ve also been left with this giant responsibility. You had to leave your life behind for what? Teaching a bunch of youngsters how to finger-paint?”

            “Aunt Kate,” Allison started, obviously uncomfortable, but Derek interrupted her.

            “Kate, it’s a summer camp. I’m not moving to Beacon Hills for good.”

            “Just think about it, Derek. All you’d have to do is sign a few papers and I could take this fixer-upper off your hands. Hell, I’ll even pay you for it. Think about all the joy you could be bringing to those kids over at Silver Creek when I announce we’re putting in a bowling alley or an extension to our arcade,” she grinned, hopping off the desk to join her niece in the hallway. “Come on, Allison. Let’s go. Derek, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

            Cora’s eyes narrowed and her fingers curled into the window sill. She watched in aggravation as Kate Argent sat on her mother’s old desk like she owned it and gazed at Derek like she owned him, too. Maybe eavesdropping was wrong but her siblings had decided to have a meeting without her and this place was just as much hers as it was theirs. It didn’t matter that her name wasn’t on any of the papers, she still deserved a say in things considering it was a _family_ ran camp. Last time she checked, she was certainly a Hale. Cora was glad she’d kept listening after she found out that the talent show was cancelled. Which just - no, not okay. She had to do something about it.

            “What are you doing?” A voice came from behind her. She whipped around to glare at Stiles as he snickered at her. “Are you eavesdropping? Wow, Cora, that‘s kind of low. Even for you.”

            “That’s hilarious coming from someone sneaking up on innocent girls who aren’t looking,” Cora told him impassively.

            “You? Innocent?” Stiles scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh.” And then he laughed. He made a big show of it too, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. When he was done, he tilted his head back down and grinned at her. “Hear anything interesting?”

            “Not really,” Cora shrugged.

            And then the most ingenious idea hit her and she was grinning back, all teeth.

            “What?” Stiles warily asked.

            But before she could answer, Kate slammed out of the office cabin with Allison close behind. Allison waved at Cora with a soft smile but Kate didn’t even look at her.

            “Wasn’t that Kate Argent?” Stiles inquired, looking after them curiously. “What were they doing here?”

            “Derek and Kate used to date,” Cora answered. “She’s trying to get Derek to sell the camp.” When Stiles parted his lips to speak, she shook her head. “Don’t worry; he won’t. But we have other, more pressing matters. The talent show might be cancelled because of some bad sound equipment.”

            “What?!” Stiles cried. “That can’t happen! It’s like the _best part_ about camp, besides the actual camping trip we take at the end.”

            “Which is why your sudden appearance has given me a genius idea,” Cora was grinning again and Stiles couldn’t decide if he was terrified or aroused - probably both. “We’re going to steal the Argents’ sound equipment. Tonight. Are you in?”

            “Argents as in Kate Argent? Hells yeah, I’m in. Scott will be too, once I convince him,” Stiles said.

            “I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into this,” Scott complained as he helped shove the rusty canoe into the lake. It wobbled a bit before steadying. Cora handed Stiles a set of paddles and then gestured for them to get in.

            “Uh yeah, you can. It’s part of the unspoken agreement of our friendship. We’re always supposed to indulge in each other’s dumb plans. It’s law. Also, I’ve never known you to pass up a perfect opportunity for larceny.”

            “Stiles, I’m pretty sure the only embezzler here is you,” Scott reprimanded. “You’re taking this ongoing rivalry with the Argents a little far, don’t you think?”

            “Firstly, I prefer the term moonlighter. Secondly, this isn’t about any rivalry. It’s a quest for justice. We’re temporarily borrowing from the rich and snobby in order to save the talent show. It’s called serving the greater good. I’m practically a modern-”

            “Please don’t say Batman. You’re so not Batman,” Scott muttered, taking a seat in the middle of the canoe before hoisting up Cora carefully enough that the canoe didn’t shift with the sudden change of weight.

            “I was going to say Robin Hood,” Stiles smirked. “I guess what I should have said was that I’ve never known you to pass up a perfect opportunity to see Allison.”

            At that, Scott ducked his head and blushed. Cora steered them forward and they surged away from the shore with a violent thrust that caused Stiles to grip the handle of his paddles so tightly that his hands began to throb.

            “Hey, a little warning?” Stiles called out. He craned his neck to glare at Cora but unable to see her from behind Scott’s head.

            “Sorry about that,” Cora yelled back in a tone that Stiles knew was anything but sincere. She spent the rest of the trip setting a vicious pace that he found impossible to keep up with. There was no way Cora was allowed to steer on the way home. Not if Stiles wanted to continue to be in possession of his apendeges.

            “Camp Silver Creek has been spotted,” Stiles said, breathing in relief as he paddled harder.

            “Obviously. Keep your voice down, Stilinski, unless you want them all to greet us at the dock,” Cora hissed. They both resumed paddling in silence.

            “Land ho,” Stiles and Scott cheered as Cora steered them safely towards the dock.

            “Dorks. I’m friends with total dorks,” she said miserably, using her paddle to hold the canoe in place long enough for Stiles to leap out.

            “Interesting. Do all Hales hate fun, or is it just you?” Stiles shot back as he held out a hand to help Scott onto the dock. Cora glared and halfheartedly swung her paddle in their direction.

            “You might want to keep the snark to a minimum while I’m holding what could easily be used as a weapon. I could pin your death on the Argents. Two birds, one stone,” she grinned as she vaulted out of the canoe. She used the rope she’d brought with them to tie it securely to the pier. At this point, the threats no longer fazed him. Seriously.

            “So where do you think they’d be hiding the equipment, anyway?” Scott asked as he brushed himself off. Using a canoe that was covered in thick layers of grime and filth was another thing that no longer fazed Stiles. There were probably species of spiders that hadn’t even been discovered yet crawling around inside the stern.

            “The basement, maybe?” Stiles guessed and Scott and Cora nodded in agreement.

            “We’ll check there first.”

            “Bingo,” Stiles whooped and held up his hand before receiving a reluctant high-five from Cora. “Now we’ve just got to haul these suckers back to camp and we’re set to go.”

            “Uh. Stiles?”

            Stiles whipped around to face her, squinting in the dark in order to get a better look at Cora’s face.

            “Hmm?”

            “Scott. Where’s Scott? I don’t think there’s anyone else down here but us.”

            “Yo, Scotty? You down here?” Stiles whispered and then paused. He couldn’t hear anything but sharp panting and the quiet scuffle of shoes against the creaky floor panels.

            “Crap. Allison,” Cora sighed, grabbing one of the speakers.

            “Allison,” Stiles agreed gravely, taking the rest of the equipment with him and then following her up the stairs. When they reached the dock, they were greeted with the sight of Scott staring dreamily into Allison’s eyes as she scrawled something onto his palm in black sharpie.

            “Oh. Allison. Always nice to see you,” Stiles smiled from behind the speaker his arms were wrapped around. He nodded at her and she returned it with a polite smile. “Scott, we’re leaving. Like _now_ ,” he snapped, watching with satisfaction as Scott jerked away from Allison and rushed to release the canoe from the dock.

            "Ugh, this is so heavy," Scott complained with a grunt. It really wasn't. Scott just liked to complain a lot.

            "Yeah, it is. Why do you think you're the one carrying it?" Stiles asked. He kicked his legs against the cabinet he was sitting on and watched as Cora came in behind him, lugging the last of the equipment. She glared at him as she scooted the speaker into place beside the rest of the equipment and he just smiled innocently.

            “Thanks for the help, Scott,” Cora announced.

            “Hey! What about me?” Stiles cried as he hopped down from his seat and crossed the room to where they were standing.

            “Thank you so much, Stiles, for doing absolutely nothing,” Cora said with every ounce of sarcasm she could muster. “As usual.”

            “I resent that,” Stiles scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I'll see you losers at the bonfire later. Don't forget to wear your counselor t-shirts, unless you want Derek to throw a fit.”

            With that said, she walked out of the storage building without so much as a backwards glance at them.

            “I forgot how awful she is,” Scott pouted.

            “Me too, buddy,” Stiles said as he put his arm around Scott's shoulders. “Me, too.”

            “Do we have to roast marshmallows?”

            “Do we have to – Derek, this is a _bonfire_! Of course we have to have marshmallows!” Laura threw one of the bags of marshmallows at her ridiculous brother as she shouted, laughing when it hit the side of his head. “What happened to those super fast reflexes you used to brag about, big bro?”

            “I wasn't _looking_ , Laura,” Derek hissed through clenched teeth and the expression on his face – which was pure fury, probably, or at least Derek thought it was – only made her laugh harder. She obviously had a death wish.

            Laura raised her eyebrows and the corners of her lips curled, but all she said was, “These are children we're entertaining, Der. Children like marshmallows, so we're having marshmallows.”

            “Little kids also have a habit of thinking it’s cool to stick their entire arm into the fire.”

            “That's never happened here,” Laura argued as she gathered the supplies for smores.

            “You never know, this could be the summer. That Stilinski kid seems pretty accident-prone. I wouldn’t put it past him to burn his arm hairs off using the giant fire,” Derek told her, taking the box she handed to him. He didn't wait for her to reply before he left. After dropping the box of supplies off at the bonfire site, he started to head back to his cabin when he felt a tug on the back of his leather jacket.

            “Going somewhere, Derek?” Cora asked with an innocent look on her face. When he only raised an annoyed eyebrow at her, she continued with, “Oh, come on, it’s not even late yet. Shouldn’t you be a little bit more chipper considering we just saved your ass from having to cancel the main event? Come, sit.” As she patted the empty spot on the log, Derek approached warily, eyeing her with suspicion.

            “I need someone to feed my burnt marshmallows to,” she explained with a shameless shrug as Derek wedged himself in between her and Stiles. “Not that I support you scurrying off to brood in your cabin, either.”

            Derek admitted to himself that he would calling it an early night if he left now, which meant dealing with Laura and her Arched Brow of Extreme Judgment tomorrow. It was still too bright outside for stars, clouds crowding around the thin crescent of the moon and lighter shades of pinks and oranges bleeding across a dusky sky. So Derek sat quietly and let Cora bully him into giving her the last of his chocolate so that she could add more to her s’more. Handing over the piece of chocolate, he watched with fascination as Stiles shoved as many marshmallows onto a stick as possible. Two of his marshmallows rolled off the stick and into the fire the second Stiles hoisted it above the flames.

Stiles cussed quietly under his breath and immediately plunged his stick back in, jabbing at the lost marshmallows frantically like there wasn’t an entire bag of them sitting on his lap.

            “Don’t worry little guys, I’ll get you! Let no man be left behind,” he shrieked, and then let loose an unabashed whoop of victory when he managed to spear them with the sharp edge. His face fell when he noticed that the two he’d rescued had caved in on themselves and were more than lightly dusted with charcoal, as little bits of seared marshmallow crumbled off. His shoulders sagged and he yanked them off the end before tossing them back into the flames with a miserable sigh. The fire immediately swallowed them, flames licking around their edges before reducing them to soot within seconds.

            “Are you sure they weren’t just making a quick escape?” Derek asked and Stiles jerked his head up, mouth falling open in shock at having an audience. Derek enjoyed the way the teenager’s ears turned bright red, the way a light flush crept up his neck as he bowed his head in embarrassment. It was almost as captivating to watch the way the light from the flames flickered across his pale skin, flashes of light illuminating his features: his cheekbones, his jaw, the long column of his neck, his thin fingers wrapped around the stick as he plopped one of the gooey marshmallows into his mouth. Derek tracked the movement of the light as it danced across Stiles’ face before peeling his eyes away.

            Now that Derek had gotten a better look, he decided that Stiles’ eyes were almost like crackling, glowing embers themselves, vibrant in the radiant firelight.

            Stiles grunted in accusation, mouth still jammed full with three marshmallows as he narrowed his eyes to glare at Derek.

            “So, does anyone have any horror stories they want to share? If not, I can start bringing out Der’s baby pictures and elementary photos. Those should be traumatizing enough,” Laura grinned, winking at Derek from across the campfire. Derek groaned.

            “I think this is my cue to leave. I’ll be back later to check on the cabins,” Derek whispered to Cora before sneaking away.

            “Coward!” Laura called after him. He dodged the empty soda can she launched at his head.

            An hour later when the campsite was spotless, the fire had been put out and Stiles’ arms felt like they’d fall off from gathering soda cans off the ground, Laura started herding the campers off to their cabins. Erica pouted as she slipped her hand out of Boyd’s, sighing as she lifted herself from his lap and he placed his hands on her waist to steady her.

            Isaac groaned, sluggishly pulling himself up from where he’d been laying down, back against the grass as he’d gazed at the stars with Cora.

            “Oh, stop complaining. I let you all have thirty minutes extra. Now off to bed,” Laura shooed them, gesturing towards the cabin when Cora shot her a look.

            “I thought you were the fun sibling,” she sulked.

            “Only by comparison. Good night,” Laura laughed.

            Stiles was the first one to the cabin, climbing the ladder and flopping down on the bunk where Cora had thrown all his stuff. A few minutes later, his roommates sauntered in. He heard the door slam shut behind them and waited a moment for the sound of the mattress beneath him to creak before he started talking.

            “Psst. Hey, Scott?”

            “Yeah?”

            “So I have a plan,” he announced, peeking his head over the side of the bed in order to peer down at Scott. “This year is going to be different.”

            “Can this wait until tomorrow?” Scott yawned.

            “No. Look. Here’s the thing. Every year I come here and it’s always the same. I show up a virgin and I leave a virgin. Every single person above the age of 16 at this camp has gotten action with the exception of me. Isaac’s hooked up with nearly everyone here. Last year,  _you_ even locked lips with him during a game of spin the bottle,” Stiles continued.

            “Your point?” Scott groaned, tugging his covers over his head, possibly to hide the blush that colored his cheeks.

            “My point is that it’s all about to change. I have a quest, a mission if you will. I even bought condoms. Dude, this is going to be the year, I can feel it.”

            “That’s great,” Scott replied unenthusiastically.

            “Someone needs to sex me up this year. My life depends on it.”

            “Wow, Stiles, I had no idea you felt that way. I’d have happily solved your little ‘problem’ years ago if you’d only asked nicely,” Danny chimed in.

            “Really?” Stiles perked up.

            “No.”

            “If you two don’t shut up, I’m going to smother you with your pillows. My father is a lawyer. There’s a good chance I wouldn’t end up doing any time for it, either,” Jackson snapped.

            “My dad’s the sheriff. Also, you’re bluffing. Someone as pretty as you wouldn’t last a week in jail,” Stiles refuted.

            “Shut. Up,” he growled, tossing a pillow at Stiles’ face.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Derek’s parents die in a house fire, Derek moves back to Beacon Hills to take care of his younger sisters. He finds himself entrusted with the responsibility of running his family’s camp – Little Paw. Despite hating everything about camp, including s’mores and dumb campfire songs, Derek takes on the role of Camp Director. He does so while secretly praying he doesn’t finish the next two weeks with some sort of law suit on his hands. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but it proves long enough to mend family bonds and to fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: the wonderful [Allie](http://www.youshinebrighter21.tumblr.com/)

            “Scott, it’s really not that difficult. Just pick a seat, dude. Preferably nowhere near _them_ ,” Stiles gagged, nodding his head in the direction of Boyd and Erica. Erica was feeding Boyd her leftover pancakes, cooing when he gave her a toothy grin, syrup trickling down his chin. It was nauseatingly adorable. Stiles detested the entire scene with a burning passion.

            “Since when do you hate PDA?” Scott chuckled, stepping in line behind Stiles to get breakfast.

            “Since I’m not participating in it,” he sighed, taking another step forward when the line shifted.

            “Stiles, you’ve never been a recipient of that kind of affection, public or otherwise,” Scott grinned.

            “Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Stiles groaned. “Also, have I mentioned that you’re an awful best friend? The _worst_. How did you even win that title anyway?”

            “I was the sole contender,” Scott shrugged and Stiles swung his tray at him

            “Asshole.”

            When they finally reached the food, Stiles practically started to _salivate_. Finally, he could enjoy pigging out without being guilt-tripped by his father; the Sheriff’s eyes always going wide in a silent plea as he shoved his broccoli to the other side of his plate. Stiles’ eyes scanned greedily over the span of the buffet table before he reached out a hand to grab a croissant. Someone else apparently appreciated French desserts as much as he did because his hand was immediately intercepted. Stiles glared at the hand that had snatched the last croissant, a hundred insults on the tip of his tongue as he whipped around to face the thief.

            The words died in his throat, a strained whimper escaping his lips instead, when he found himself face to face with Derek Hale.

            “D-Derek,” he squeaked. “Fancy meeting you here, huh?” His eyes dropped to Derek’s tray, the one that currently held the very last croissant. Bastard.

            “In line for breakfast?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow as he reached for a water bottle. Stiles cleared his throat.

            “Okay, maybe it’s not exactly the most unlikely of sightings. I was wondering if you would be willing to trade that croissant for something else. _Anything_ else.”

            When Derek brows furrowed, Stiles continued. “Can I interest you in a different delicacy, perhaps? What about these single serve cereals? Froot Loops, maybe? You just open the package, pour it in a bowl, add...”

            “I know how cereal works, Stiles,” Derek growled. “I’m not an idiot.”

            Stiles blushed as he used his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, maybe…”

            “No.”

            “But I love croissants,” Stiles pouted.

            “Unfortunately for you, so do I.” Derek stared back indifferently. “Better luck tomorrow,” he smirked before strutting off to join Laura at her table.

            Let it be known that Derek Hale was officially Stiles’ least favourite Hale.

            “I’m telling you, he’s the worst,” Stiles complained as he dug his spoon into his bowl of Cheerios.

            “I wouldn’t let Cora hear that if I were you,” Scott grinned. “She’s always been pretty competitive.”

            “Hear what?” Cora asked as she squeezed in beside Danny and Scott. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion as she glanced between Stiles and Scott. “Talk shit, get hit,” she promised, cracking her knuckles loudly.

            “Nothing to hear. Just Stiles mooning over your brother again,” Scott snickered, covering his face with his empty plate when Stiles flung a Cheerio at him.

            “Oh, ew,” Cora grimaced. “Is that even legal?”

            “I’m eighteen,” Stiles reminded her, reddening when he realized what he’d said. “No, that, uh…well. I mean, he is really easy on the eyes, but I’d never...”

            “Gross. Just. Stop. My brother is bi and he’s currently single and I’m offering you this information in the hopes of avoiding hours’ worth of pestering. Let’s never talk about this again,” she said, giving Stiles a forced smile that was closer to a scowl.

            “So, have you guys decided what you’re going to perform tonight at the talent show?” Scott asked, trying to change the subject. He was the _best_ friend.

            “Are you dweebs actually planning on participating?” Jackson started laughing but stopped abruptly, covering it with a cough, when Danny glared at him.

            “Uh, yes. It’s actually one of my favourite things about camp. Aren’t you going to?”

            “Participating in some lame talent show? Wow, you’re right, McCall. That sounds like a great idea. In fact, why don’t I just stab myself in the face with this knife? That’ll probably be equally as entertaining.”

            “It would be,” Stiles agreed full-heartedly. “It would beat last year’s ABC recital by a long shot.”

            “How about you, Danny? Any talents you plan on showing off?” Scott inquired when Jackson made a face like he was contemplating stabbing Stiles in the face instead.

            “I don’t think hacking is a talent that’ll translate well. I’m not sure how you’d perform that,” Stiles frowned, patting Danny on the back.

            “Stiles, just because I hacked into the camp’s main computer files _once_ ,” Danny sighed in defeat. “I can play the flute.”

            “I can’t believe this stupid camp is having a talent show,” Jackson groaned. “What’s next? Arts and crafts?”

            “What do you mean you can’t believe it? Jackson, you’ve been attending this camp for, like, three years straight now. You may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but come on, buddy. Your deduction skills can’t be _that_ pathetic. Besides, you’re just upset it’s not a beauty pageant or something,” Stiles grinned. Maybe he was taking it a little far, judging by the way Jackson snarled at him. Pissing Jackson off just happened to be one of his favorite pastimes.

            “Whatever. I bet Camp Silver Creek doesn’t have talent shows. I’d rather be there any day.”

            “Wow, I’m all about this plan. Can we send him away? Please? We could strap him to a canoe and send him upstream like baby Moses,” Stiles begged Scott. He grabbed onto his arm and gave him his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

            “Drop it, Stiles. If getting rid of Jackson was that easy, we’d have done it years ago,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “Hey, do you think Allison’s going to call me now that she has my number?”

            “No,” Stiles answered, watching in amusement as Scott’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I hate to break it to you, Scotty, but we haven’t ever been able to get a signal out here. Talia was sort of intense about the idea of being surrounded by the wilderness. She thought it was essential to the whole ‘woodsy’ experience. Am I seriously the only one who pays attention around here?” Stiles asked in exasperation.

            “Crap, I forgot,” Scott mumbled as his face dropped. Stiles felt a twinge of guilt at having burst his bubble.

            “Well, hey. Maybe Allison will make it to the show tonight,” he offered.

            “You think?” Scott asked, perking up as he picked up the acoustic that was beside him. “Because I’ve actually been working on something. I wrote her a song. It’s called ‘Allison.’”

            “You don’t say,” Stiles said sarcastically, sharing a smirk with Cora who snickered quietly.

            Scott cleared his throat and lifted the guitar onto his lap. Stiles cringed when he began strumming a few chords. “Allison. Oh, Allison. I think this might be love,” he sang before looking up at Stiles. “That’s all I’ve got so far.”

            “She’ll love it. It’s a real panty-dropper,” Stiles laughed, staring at Scott fondly because maybe he was a lost cause, but he was _Stiles’_ lost cause.

            "Is this where we sign up for the talent show?" a short brown-haired girl asked, eyelashes fluttering as she looked up at Derek.

            Ignoring Laura's loud laughter from behind him, Derek frowned down at her, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. " _Yes_ ," he said slowly. "The sign-up sheet is right there. Underneath the big sign that says 'Talent Show Sign-Up Sheet'. Do you honestly not see it?"

            For some reason, this only made Laura’s laughter reach ridiculous levels of volume. He glared at her, lips a thin line before turning his attention back to the girl. She was playing with her fingers and chewing on her bottom lip as she looked back and forth between the Hale siblings expectantly.

            "Is there something else you needed?" Derek asked in an irritated tone that made the girl shake her head with wide eyes. "Then get back with your group."

            After the girl darted away, Derek turned to look at Laura who was obviously trying not to laugh anymore, her lips pursed and cheeks tinged red.

            "What?" he growled at her.

            "That girl was trying to hit on you," Laura answered between laughs, unable to keep silent any longer.

            "She was like, twelve," Derek argued, shaking his head as he picked up his bottle of water and began to untwist the cap. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

            "As much as I would rather be here, laughing at your obliviousness, you are right," Laura sighed, giving her brother a pleased sort of smile before she stood up. Her hand was warm where it laid on his shoulder, squeezing, and he couldn't help but smile back. " _Somebody_ has to teach small children how to glue their fingers to craft paper."

            "I'm still not sure it was a good idea to give you the job, despite _years_ of personal experience," Derek told her with an earnest look on his face. He smirked when she looked completely offended and cuffed him on the back of the head.

            "Just remember - under absolutely no circumstances is Stiles Stilinski allowed to put his name on that list," Laura warned him. "You don't want to know why, alright? Just trust me." She ambled away, straightening her shirt and stuffing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

            Derek sat back in his chair, resting his arms across his chest. His eyes were trailing over trees and the dirt paths leading to the cabins and the lake, taking in the mess that was somehow still functional, even though it was moments from falling apart. His thoughts trailed to the first year he was finally allowed to stay at camp for the summer. It had been absolute hell. He came home after only a week to Cora and Laura and Uncle Peter curled up on the couch in front of the TV. He’d been covered in bug bites, sunburned and miserable. When he'd joined them, they didn't say anything about him being home early - they'd just shuffled around to accommodate him and then settled back down.

            Derek shook his head, attempting to clear the thoughts away, and that's when he noticed Stiles approaching.

            “Yo, Derek,” Stiles called, the string of his hoodie slipping from his mouth as his face lit up in unmasked joy. He raised an arm to wave but promptly dropped it when he noticed the stern set of Derek’s jaw, the way his arms were crossed tightly across his chest as if to ward off anyone who might want to talk to him. Even as Stiles’ eyes roved over the places where Derek’s short sleeves were stretched over thick muscle, he still had to admit it was a pretty intimidating stance.

            “No,” Derek answered calmly to a question Stiles hadn’t begun to ask.

            “But I haven’t even asked anything yet,” he pouted as he moved closer to the sign-up sheet.

            Derek moved in front of the sheet, effectively blocking it from his view. “No, as in no, you can’t sign up,” he clarified.

            “Geez, somebody is grumpy this morning. I wasn’t even going to. I was going to sign Scott up because he asked me to. He’s busy working on his new song and God knows he could use the practice. Who peed in your Cheerios?” Stiles snickered, his laugh coming to a halt when he remembered that morning’s betrayal. “Or should I say who peed on your _croissant_?”

            “So you’re not signing up?” Derek asked doubtfully, only inching away from the sheet as he watched Stiles cautiously.  

            “You have my word,” Stiles promised in mock-seriousness.

            “You don’t have any talents you’re eager to show off?”

            “None that would be appropriate for the stage, at least,” Stiles leered. He was totally bluffing because hello, virgin, but the way Derek’s eyes widened in shock and a faint hue of pink coloured his cheeks made it worth it. He shoved past Derek and snatched the pen from him before quickly jotting down Scott’s name on the list.

            “Later,” he grinned, his nimble fingers pulling at the dangling string so that he could resume nibbling on it. “I’ll see you at the talent show. I hope you’ve prepared something a little more special for us than an impressive scowl.”

            Fuck. Derek had forgotten that he was supposed to be performing at this thing.

            "I'm 95% sure Derek Hale hates me," Stiles announced as he plopped down on the grass next to Scott. His long fingers instantly began pulling at the green blades, one at a time until he had a neat little pile next to his leg. He looked at Scott who was still fiddling with his guitar, turning the tuning pegs and plucking the strings in some order that didn't make any sense to Stiles.

            "Did you hear me, Scotty?"

            "What? Yeah, sorry," Scott nodded, finally looking at him even though his fingers were still idly playing with the guitar strings. "What makes you say that?"

            Stiles was still gathering grass as he said, "Have you seen the way he looks at me? Like he's seconds away from growing razor sharp teeth _just_ to rip my throat out with them?"

            "I'm pretty sure that's just his face, dude," Scott nodded sagely. "Like, I think he just always _looks_ like he wants to kill someone. Perpetual bitch-face and what not."

            "I don't know if I believe you," Stiles told him. "Just now, when I went to sign you up for the talent show, I could have sworn he was seconds away from causing me bodily harm because he thought _I_ was going to sign up. Oh, you’re welcome, by the way."

            "Laura probably warned him not to let you sign up. If you think about it, it’s really for your own good."

            "One time, Scotty. _One time_ ," Stiles glared at his so-called best friend. "And you swore you'd never bring it up again."

            "I did," Scott grinned and went back to tuning his guitar.

            The pair sat in companionable silence for as long as Stiles could handle - which was not very long at all. Even though he enjoyed the soft sounds of Scott humming and strumming his guitar, it wasn't in his nature to be quiet and still.

            “Is that Derek?” Stiles asked in disbelief, noting the flower crown that rested on the top of Derek’s head and the way he was gritting his teeth together as he handed a little girl a gimp bracelet. Stiles watched in amusement as little kids circled around him, each making grabby hands at Derek and cooing in delight.

            “Der! Der! Der! Me next,” one little girl with blond hair tied into braids called as she shoved her way to the front of the herd.

            “Alright, hold out your wrist,” Derek sighed from behind his stand. “Which colours do you want?”

            The girl rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, placing a finger to her lips in contemplation. “Red and green. No! Blue and green.”

            Derek nodded seriously and fetched the appropriate cords of gimp from his box before he started weaving them together in an intricate pattern.

            “That’s even cuter than the bunny teeth,” Stiles groaned in frustration.

            “Adorable. A serial killer with a heart,” Scott winked, despite having sort of defended Derek moments ago.

            “Shut up. Every time I think I’m out, he pulls me back in. Damn it.”

 

            “All set,” Stiles announced as he adjusted the microphone. Stiles stood back and admired his work. The stand wobbled before clattering to the floor, sending the microphone rolling across the stage with a shrill screech. Derek clamped his hands over his ears and glared at Stiles.

            “Whoops,” Stiles laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at the equipment. He crouched over to pick it up and Derek didn’t miss the Batman boxers peeking out of his khaki pants. Stiles was wearing a red t-shirt with a small white paw in the center as well as a red and black plaid over shirt. It was a drastic improvement over the Three Wolf Moon tee he’d insisted on wearing as a pseudo uniform.

            “Maybe you should take a break. We can’t afford to lose any more equipment before the show,” Derek suggested. Stiles threw him an affronted look and continued to reassemble the stand as if he hadn’t heard Derek.

            “I’ll have you know that it’s partially due to me that you even have this equipment to begin with.”

            “Do I even want to know how you found all of this at the last minute? This camp is located in the middle of nowhere. I should know,” Derek said, thinking back to that one time he’d tried to run home. Not as easy as he’d hoped, and by the time his mother had found him, his arms were covered in rashes from poison ivy and his cheeks were tear-stained. He’d clung onto his mother for at least a week afterwards.

            “Ah, well, a little peace of mind goes a long way. The less you know, Derek. The less you know.”

            Derek chuckled. “I figured as much. So, my sister banned you from performing, but she never gave me the details. What’s the deal with that, anyway?”

            Stiles shrugged in mock nonchalance. “It wasn’t _that_ bad. I took a few artistic liberties, s’all.”

            Derek arched an eyebrow. When Stiles realized he wasn’t relenting, he continued.

            “This one year, Jackson wouldn’t stop egging me on. He kept insisting I didn’t have any talents to showcase and I wanted to prove him wrong. Apparently, I don’t make the best fire dancer. I know, it was stupid,” Stiles sighed, raising both hands as if to ward off Derek’s unspoken criticism.

            “No way,” Derek gaped. “So, what happened?”

             Stiles couldn’t help but preen at the way he’d managed to inspire Derek’s first display of human emotion beyond eternal angst, even if it was at his stupidity.

            “Have you ever wondered what Jackson would look like without any eyebrows?” Stiles asked with his best shit-eating grin, his own eyebrows waggling dramatically. Derek tilted his head back and laughed, a sound of unrestrained mirth that Stiles would have been convinced he’d imagined if Laura hadn’t appeared beside Derek a moment later. Her warm brown eyes swept between Derek and Stiles in disbelief.

            “Am I dreaming? I must be. Stiles, quick, pinch me. Is this an alternate universe that I’ve accidentally stumbled upon? A sign of the apocalypse?” she demanded, still incredulous as Derek regained his composure.

            “I think I broke him,” Stiles whispered loudly and Laura smirked.

            Derek glared at both of them. “I hate you both,” he snarled, storming off towards his cabin to gather the rest of the supplies.

            “Ah, and so the universe’s equilibrium is rightfully restored,” Laura nodded. Derek could practically hear their giggle fits from his cabin.

            "Wait.” Scott dug his elbow into Stiles' side to get his attention. "I think Cora is saving us seats in the front, dude."

            Stiles turned in the direction Scott was pointing to find Cora waving her hands in a 'come here' motion. He smiled and nodded at her, going as far as giving her a thumbs up. "All the more reason to sit back here with Erica and Boyd," he said, pointedly sitting down without taking his eyes off of Cora. The look she was giving them was positively murderous.

            "But Jackson is sitting back here too," Scott grumbled even as he plopped down in the chair between Erica and Stiles. Cora hadn't stopped glaring at them. "And now she's mad and she's going to kill us in our sleep. I don't want to wake up dead, Stiles."

            "Don't worry about it, buddy. If you're dead, you won't wake up."

            Scott looked like he wanted to say something but before he could, Laura walked across the stage until she was standing in front of the microphone.

            "Welcome to the Camp Little Paw Annual Talent Show!" Laura shouted, throwing her arms into the air and grinning widely at her audience. "Are you guys as pumped as I am to see how talented our campers are this year?”

            The crowd of campers cheered at her, including Scott and Erica. Stiles' laughter was loud and raucous as he looked over at his friends. Unfortunately, he was just in time to see Jackson rolling his eyes. Stile was thoroughly convinced the guy really did hate everything.

            "We've got some acts lined up that sound pretty awesome, so let's get started, yeah? First up, we have Katie Smith!" Laura started clapping as she walked off the stage. She was replaced by a girl who was maybe 11 or 12, with curly brown hair and a big smile.

            "I'm going to sing 'What Makes You Beautiful' by One Direction."

            After the fifth rendition of One Direction’s music, Laura summoned Scott to the stage.

            “Yo, you got this,” Stiles promised, clapping him over the shoulder as Scott’s eyes began to widen in panic.

            “She’s not here yet,” he whispered back.

            “You sure about that, buddy?” he grinned, nodding towards the three silhouettes of campers who were making their way over. One of them waved shyly and Scott waved back, a smile splitting across his face. “Knock ‘em dead.” Stiles shoved Scott to his feet and laughed when Scott nearly tripped over a chair on his way to the stage.

            “Are we late?” asked Allison as she, Lydia and Ethan took the remaining seats in the row behind them.

            “Just in time, actually.”

            “What are you guys doing here? You do realize this is Little Paw, right?” Jackson glared.

            “Yeah, the giant sign out front sort of tipped us off,” Lydia snapped.

            The stage lights brightened and Scott squinted in the glaring light. He tuned his guitar as he smiled at Allison, his shaky fingers plucking at the cords haphazardly. A sheen of sweat gathered on his forehead and he yanked his tank top over his head.

            The female portion of the audience whooped and Scott blushed as he readjusted his guitar.

            “So, uh,” he cleared his throat, squinting as his eyes scanned the audience. “This song is called Allison.” There was a quiet murmur of appreciation that the next song was an original.

            “He also wanted to call his one-man act ‘Allison,’ but I convinced him that it was a little too much,” Stiles whispered, leaning back so that Allison would hear him.

            Scott strummed the first few notes and slowly regained his confidence. Soon enough, he was bobbing his head along to the melody and bouncing up and down, thrashing about. His voice was a bit off-key and his fingers stumbled over a few of the strings, but for the most part Stiles was impressed by his progress. Allison was entranced by Scott’s ability to publically wax poetic over her brown eyes and dimples, clearly lured by the fantasy that was any man who could play guitar, even poorly.

            “Thank you. That one was for Allison,” Scott winked, tossing his hat into the audience.

            The audience cheered loudly and Allison stood up, clapping thunderously as she beamed at him. Two twelve year olds caught his hat and had to be separated after one of them threw a punch.

            The rest of the show passed by swiftly. A choir of children sang Katy Perry’s ‘Firework,’ an eleven year old recited poetry, and a fourteen year old demonstrated his break dancing skills. Jackson glowered at everyone who made eye contact with him, Ethan yelled out “that’s my boyfriend!” after Danny’s performance, and Danny gave him one of the most fond looks Stiles had ever seen. Boyd did his juggling routine, but accidentally dropped one of the fruits. Stiles couldn’t really blame the dude because juggling fourteen oranges couldn’t be easy. Boyd glared at the audience as if daring anyone to say anything about it when he went to pick up the stray orange he’d dropped. Nobody did.

            Cora performed a raspy, bluesy version of ‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door’ and dedicated it to her parents. Laura got choked up and Derek pulled her in for a hug as they watched their sister in pride. Laura performed a few silly magic tricks and managed to coax laughter from the entire crowd, with the exception of Jackson whose laughter could only be inspired through witnessing the failures of others.

            “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have one last performance prepared for you,” Laura grinned mischievously as she dragged Derek onto the stage. Stiles shimmied in his seat in anticipation and Scott arched his eyebrow in a way that Stiles knew meant he was judging him, but whatever. Allison distracted Scott by placing her chin on his elbow and intertwining her fingers with his. Scott inhaled deeply and Stiles smiled to himself.

            “I present to you Derek Hale, the magnificent triangle player,” Laura giggled, rushing off stage as Derek stood there in mortification.

            Crickets chirped, interrupting the resounding silence and Stiles clamped a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter as Derek retrieved a silver triangle from behind his back. “I’d like to dedicate this one to Laura,” he announced, proceeding to perform the most hostile triangle solo of all time. Every violent clash of Derek’s wand (not even an innuendo) against the steel triangle was loudly punctuated. Stiles counted out ten _tings_ in his head before Derek bowed and leapt off the stage, ignoring the set of stairs entirely.  
            “Thank you for coming out, folks! Also thank you for participating in this year’s talent show,” Laura gasped between fits of giggles.

            “Well, you tried,” Laura said as she patted Derek on the back. “You never really were the musically inclined type.”

            “Remember when Mom bought Derek an electric guitar for his tenth birthday?” Cora grinned, giving Laura a knowing look. “We each bought ourselves a pair of headphones to drown out the sound.”

            “Right, and then Mom gave it to charity a few months later,” Laura nodded.

            “I thought Mom said it got stolen?” Derek demanded, glancing back and forth between his sisters in confusion.

            “Oh. Der, is that what Mom told you?”

            “I thought she said I was making progress,” Derek sulked and Laura patted his back again.

            “You know, Mom would have been proud,” she smiled and Derek scoffed.

            “I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

            “Well, the talent show was a success. We got through it without any major hitches,” Cora reminded him.

            “You haven’t run this place into the ground yet,” Laura smiled sweetly. “Maybe you can stop holding your breath and waiting for something awful to happen. And even if something does go wrong, we’ve got your back.”

            “Thanks. I’m just trying to live up to the legacy that was them. Those are big shoes to fill, you know?”

            “So don’t try,” Laura shrugged, leaning back as she tossed a camp brochure into the pit and watched as tendrils of flames licked along its spine before devouring it. “Do your own thing. Mom and Dad weren’t perfect.”

            “Are you sure about that?”

            “Uh, yes. Remember that summer Mom lost track of you and you went running out into the woods? She had to send a search party out to find you.”

            “That was mostly my fault,” Derek grimaced.

            “That’s true. You were a little brat back then,” Cora chuckled, smiling fondly.

            “Okay, how about that year Dad accidentally burned all the hamburgers? The year Mom forgot to pack toilet paper? That time Uncle Peter talked them into buying ATVs and we accidentally crashed them?”

            “Fine, I see your point. This place just doesn’t feel the same without them. It feels like there’s this giant, gaping hole that I can’t seem to fill.”

            “Der, I don’t think anything ever will,” Laura whispered, lacing her fingers with his. “It’s going to be alright, though. _We_ are going to be alright. Now, go pick the movie and help me set up the projector.”

            "You have to agree that Scott's performance was pretty magical," Stiles insisted before taking a long drink from his water bottle. He grinned around the opening when Scott smiled at him.

            "The lyrics were really great," Allison agreed, nodding her head and smiling sweetly at Scott, who tangled their fingers together and leaned against her. "I didn't know you could play guitar."

            "If you can even call that playing guitar," Jackson huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes.

            "Jackson," Lydia chastised, smacking his arm as she glared at him. "Behave."

            "Yeah, _Jackie_ ," Stiles quipped. "Nobody said you had to hang out with us."

            Jackson unfolded his arms and leaned forward, a snarky remark undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue, when Lydia interrupted.

            "Scott, you have to tell us your artistic process. How did you come up with the lyrics?"

            "Well," Scott beamed smugly - Stiles' face had an identical expression on it, "I just picked up a pen and thought about all of the things I like about Allison, which is a lot because she's really great...”

            Stiles tuned out of the conversation after that, mostly because he'd already heard about Scott's writing process. He'd even been there for some of it and those were hours of his life he would never be getting back. He also let his attention drift away because he saw Derek out of the corner of his eye, walking alone and lugging a big black case and a smaller gray one.

            Stiles hadn't even realized that he had started walking away from his friends, like he was being drawn to Derek by some invisible force.  
“Stiles?” Scott called in confusion, breaking Stiles from his trance.

            "I'll meet you guys there," Stiles replied as he quickened his pace to catch up with Derek. He was out by breath by the time he found himself walking in stride with Derek. "Need some help?"

            Derek deftly lifted the smaller case up so that Stiles could wrap his fingers around the handle. Their fingers briefly brushed and Stiles' heart thumped in his chest. He cleared his throat, a weak attempt at ridding himself of the feeling, and looked over at Derek, whose attention he already had.

            "So, what are we watching tonight?" he asked with a smirk. "Something dark, like your soul? Or maybe you're the complete opposite of what you look like and you're totally into romcom flicks. I mean, there are a lot of chicks in your family."

            "Or maybe you're completely wrong on both counts," Derek countered. His voice was monotone but there was a smile playing on the edges of his lips, threatening to pull them up.

            "Don't judge a book by its cover. At least, that's what they say," Stiles nodded. "If I'm wrong on both counts, what _are_ we watching?"

            "Grease," Derek said and this time he did smile, especially when Stiles let out a surprised bellow of laughter. "So you were only partially wrong."

            "I would so tease you about this if I didn't think Grease was the best thing since sliced bread," Stiles told him in a completely serious tone. He switched the case he was carrying to the opposite hand and looked back at Derek. "Who picked it?"

            "Definitely not one of my sisters," Derek laughed. "I think if it were up to them, Grease would be banned in all fifty states as well as Canada. But, I'm the camp director now."

            "So you picked Grease?" Stiles nudged Derek with his elbow and grinned when Derek nudged him back. He was so gone on Derek it wasn't even funny anymore.

            After Stiles finished helping Derek set up the projector on the stage, everyone headed back to the cafeteria for snacks.

            “Next time _I’m_ picking the film,” Cora groaned, glaring at she stashed a bag of M &M's in her pocket and snatched the Twizzlers from Derek. “Next week, we’re doing a Die Hard marathon. I don’t care if you have a fancy ‘Camp Director’ badge. I’m the one with a black belt. Don’t test me.”

            “Fine,” Derek allowed, raising his arms in defeat as he followed her back to the stage. Cora smiled in satisfaction, still preening as she sat down beside Laura on the grass. When the movie started, Derek was fixated on the screen, tearing his eyes away only momentarily to watch the way Stiles licked butter off his fingers.

            “You know, I’m not sure why you’re so worried about being memorable, Der. You’ve clearly made an impression on a few of the campers,” Laura grinned, gesturing towards Stiles. Derek turned his head again and noticed Stiles staring back at him, his mouth full of popcorn. He sort of looked like an adorable chipmunk with his cheeks puffed up and tinged with a red flush.

            “Shut up,” Derek gritted, ignoring the way his stomach twisted when Stiles ducked his head, shifting his body around to face the projector again. After the first few scenes, Derek decided he couldn’t resist the lure of musical numbers and he found himself mouthing the lyrics and humming under his breath, refusing to stop even when Cora nudged him in the gut spitefully.

            Stiles appeared to be in a similar condition, wiggling his butt, twisting in his spot, his fingers tapping against the grass as he struggled against the instinct to dance. Few people loved Grease like Stiles did. His mom used to be a huge fan of 70s and 80s movies, and she introduced Stiles to all the classics before she’d gotten sick. Musicals were especially sacred because they used to dance in the living room, wailing along with every lyric obnoxiously loudly until their throats hurt and tears rolled down their faces, their chests heaving from laughter.

            “You know, Stiles could totally be your Sandy. I can see that. You’ve even got a lame leatherjacket to boot,” Laura contemplated.

            “You own the same ‘lame’ leatherjacket.”

            “Mine’s nicer,” she objected. “I can just see it now. _Summer Lovin’_ could be your theme song,” she winked. “A summer romance. How sweet. Even if he is kinda jailbait. A vast improvement over the last two girlfriends, though, so I’m all for it.”

            “He’s eighteen,” Derek snapped. When Laura’s face brightened in triumph he massaged the bridge of his nose and covered his eyes, refusing to meet her smug gaze.

            “I _knew_ it,” she hummed. He ignored her in favor of watching Stiles who was whispering the lines to himself as his shirt rode up, revealing a smattering of moles on his back.

            “Derek, I swear to god if you keep singing the lyrics under your breath, I’m moving,” Cora hissed, tossing an M&M at his nose. Derek glared back balefully because it was _Greased Lightin’_ and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

            She sighed loudly, pulling herself to her feet before stomping off towards Isaac. She gave Derek a pointed look and Isaac moved aside to share his blanket with her. Derek almost pitied Isaac when Cora asked him to fetch her popcorn, but the guy seemed happy to oblige, his expression a strange mixture of arousal and fear as he scurried off to get her some.

            “So, Stiles...” Laura started again and Derek cut her off with a look. Sisters who pried into love lives were the worst.

            “I’m trying to watch a movie,” he snapped. It was totally her fault when he woke up the next morning with an awkward boner after having a weird dream that involved a cheesy musical number, way too much hair gel, himself in a leather jacket and Stiles dressed in tight leather pants, dangling a cigarette between his lips as he leered at Derek and ran his thin fingers through his curly afro. Everything was the _worst_.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Derek’s parents die in a house fire, Derek moves back to Beacon Hills to take care of his younger sisters. He finds himself entrusted with the responsibility of running his family’s camp – Little Paw. Despite hating everything about camp, including s’mores and dumb campfire songs, Derek takes on the role of Camp Director. He does so while secretly praying he doesn’t finish the next two weeks with some sort of law suit on his hands. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but it proves long enough to mend family bonds and to fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: the fantastic [Allie](http://www.youshinebrighter21.tumblr.com/)

            When Stiles went to bed, he did so with the expectation of waking up with an awkward boner after spending an entire night dreaming about a certain Hale and the _many_ activities he wanted to participate in with him. What he didn't expect was for his eyes to flicker open, straining against the morning light before focusing on Derek's face hovering over his own. It was also outside of the realm of possibility that he would screech like a banshee and fall out of his bunk. At least, it should have been.

            "What the hell, dude?" Stiles shouted at Derek from where he'd landed on the cold floor.

            "You were making kissy faces in your sleep," Derek informed him. He turned away, but not before Stiles spotted the blush beneath the scruff on his cheeks and jawline. "I don't want to know. Just be sure to meet us in the dining hall whenever you feel ready to join the rest of civilization. Maybe invest in a group of friends who are willing to wake you up so that you don’t miss all the camp excursions."

            The urge Stiles felt to run his tongue against Derek's stubble and to taste the sheen of sweat on his neck was so great that he had to hide his face in his hands until he heard Derek leave. He let his hands drop to his lap and groaned in frustration.

            "Pathetic. I'm pathetic," he announced to the empty room.

            “I still don’t see why we’re taking some of the Silver Creek brats with us,” Laura sighed, glaring at the redhead who’d tied the back of her camp shirt into a knot so that the baggy tee would cling closer to her petite frame. The Silver Creek shirts were grey with small archers’ bow and arrows on them. Laura was certain it wasn’t bias that had her convinced they weren’t half as cute as the official Little Paw ones. “We’re practically doing Kate Argent, of all people, a _favor_.”

            “I’m just trying to be civil,” Derek shrugged, secretly taking pleasure in Laura’s annoyance as he watched the campers pack their bags for the hike.

            “No, you’re trying to prove our camp is better. Did you know that the Argents have an ongoing bet relating to how long they think it’ll take you to mess up? Remind me again why we’re taking their kids on our trips?” she hissed, narrowing her eyes in the direction of the same redhead who’d actually decided to wear wedges and a miniskirt to go hiking. The girl was going to get eaten alive, literally.

            “No need to be so melodramatic, Laur. There are only four of them,” Derek chuckled.

            Stiles burst through the doors just then, his cheeks bright red and his chest heaving heavily as he panted, “I’m here. Don’t leave without me.”

            His hair was still disheveled and he ran his long fingers through the unkempt tresses. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which was probably pretty accurate, except Derek knew it was more of a plummet than anything else.

            “Took you long enough,” Scott snorted, unzipping his bag to pack his thermos away.

            “Yeah, well, it’s not like my roommates tried waking me up or anything,” he glared accusingly, sliding his bag off his shoulders as he took a seat next to Scott at the table.

            “Dude, it’s not my fault you sleep like the dead,” he shrugged unapologetically. “Danny and I tried to wake you up, we really did, but you kept shifting and making these funny noises. Danny even hit you in the face with a pillow, but you were out cold. Jackson suggested we toss a bucket of water at you and I figured that was my cue to get them out of there before they tried anything more drastic for the fun of it.”

            “Fucking Jackson,” Stiles muttered under his breath as he divided his lunch into plastic containers. “Are we really doing this whole picnic thing? I mean, I haven’t gone on a picnic since...” Stiles started, cutting himself off when he realized his slip. There were some words he was careful to avoid, some memories he would rather not think about especially when he'd never have the chance to make new ones. Some people liked to work out their issues by talking about them, but Stiles wasn’t one of those people. ‘Feelings’ talks were off limits, at least when he was sober. He and his father had that in common. Scott gave him a sympathetic look before changing the topic.

            “You brought your sunscreen, right? Last year, you forgot it and you were red for days,” Scott reminded him.

            Stiles nodded, clenching his hands into fists when he spotted Jackson. “Yeah, I remember. Jackson used every excuse he could think of to keep clapping me on the back,” he said bitterly. Jackson was wearing these Ray-Ban sunglasses that made him look like even more of a douche bag than usual and a towel was draped around his bare shoulders because apparently he couldn’t wait until they reached the lake to strip off his shirt.

            “Sunscreen? What’s wrong, afraid of spending the summer looking like a lobster again?” Jackson snickered.

            “Still a better look than you without eyebrows, _Jackie,_ ” Stiles smiled sweetly, humming as he closed his bag and leapt from his seat to follow Cora into the line of prepared campers.

  

            “Oh, for the love of,” Laura groaned, her head whipping around to glare at the redhead. Lydia was limping and holding onto one of the twins as she pushed branches out of her path, not caring when the twigs smacked and clawed at anyone unfortunate enough to get caught behind her. Luckily there weren’t many, because Lydia was trotting along slowly enough that she’d fallen way behind. “I’ll be right back,” Laura gritted to Derek, shoving past the other campers until she reached Lydia.

            “Are you alright?” Laura asked, her voice strained like the smallest display of compassion was killing her. Lydia was equally as stubborn, her face trained in a blank expression. The occasional wince was the only indication that she was in any pain.

            “Perfectly fine,” she spat, tightening her grip on Aiden’s arm. The twin shot her a look but didn’t complain.

            “Uh huh. I’m sure. Lydia, we’ve been hiking through the woods for twenty minutes now and you’re wearing wedges. Your feet must be killing you. And a miniskirt, _really_?” she demanded, noting the pale red streaks along the girl’s legs and the blotchy bug bites that mottled her arms. “Aiden, run ahead. Ask Derek for the first aid kit,” she sighed, making a shooing motion as Lydia crossed her arms over her chest.

            “I said I was fine,” she insisted, her blunt nails scratching her wrist vigorously before Laura snatched it.

            “Like hell you are. Have you ever been hiking before?”

            Lydia winced again, this time bracing herself on Laura as her gaze shifted from the co-director’s face to the green forest that surrounded them.

            “ _Seriously_?”

            “Our pool is indoors and the camp does have a lot of cool stuff like a mini theater, a ranch, an archer’s and shooting range, even a gelato machine and a -”

            “So I’ve been told,” Laura nodded, a mental image of Kate gloating over their superior facilities forming in her mind.

            “It’s really more of a summer resort,” she shrugged.

            “You’re lucky I brought an extra pair of shoes with me just in case. They’ll probably be a little large for you but they’ll do the trick,” Laura sighed as she fetched the shoes from her backpack and handed them over.

            “Those are green,” Lydia pouted, her nose shriveling in disgust as she grimaced at the pair of sneakers Laura held between them like a peace offering.

            “Your induction skills are surprisingly on spot for someone so ill-equipped,” Laura smirked.

            “I can’t wear green shoes. Green and grey don’t match,” she protested and Laura threw up her hands in surrender.

            “Not my problem,” she snarled, shoving the shoes at Lydia. “What _is_ my problem is one of Kate’s special campers returning with battle scars like she sent them off to war. Also, stop scratching those. They’ll bleed,” she chided, releasing Lydia’s wrist. 

            “Thanks,” Lydia whispered, so softly Laura wasn’t sure she’d said anything at first.

            “You’re welcome,” Laura said, all the frustration draining from her voice. “Maybe just dress a little more practically next time? Wedges are sort of a hiking faux-pas. Aiden! Hurry up; we’re going to need some Band-Aids over here.”

            “Hey, Derek,” Stiles grinned as he caught up to the camp director. Derek rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. He kept his eyes trained on the trail ahead of him, pointedly averting the gaze of the teenager who was currently bouncing up and down beside him and using the walking stick he’d found to make slashing motions in the air. The kid was seriously an accident waiting to happen.

            “Are we there yet?”

            “No.”

            “How about now?” Stiles asked. He swung his stick as he hummed loudly, obviously trying to mimic the sound of a lightsaber.

            “No,” Derek growled.

            “Is it close by?”

            “No.”

            “Are we going to take a break at some point? Because my feet sort of...”

            “No.”

             “Are you ever _not_ in a crappy mood?”

             “No,” Derek grunted, sighing again when Stiles tried cutting him off.

             “Are you wearing underwear?”

             “No- Stiles, _really_? We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. In the meantime, stop trying to trip Jackson with your walking stick.”

             Stiles blinked up at him innocently, hiding the stick behind his back as Derek shook his head in disbelief.

             It was hardly Derek’s fault for being in a pissy mood. Stiles was doing all sorts of annoying things like wearing his red baseball cap backwards, his shirt’s sleeves shoved up to expose arms with a definition of muscle Derek hadn’t known they had. He was also licking around the rim of his water bottle, making sloppy sounds as he chugged and lapped at the water, leaving Derek with nothing better to do than watch the bob of his throat with every loud gulp.

             Stiles winced when he pulled his damp lips from the bottle. “God, that’s awful. Way too warm. Want some?” he asked, holding the bottle out to Derek who brushed past him.

             “Tempting, but no.” 

            “You sure, buddy? You’re looking a little parched,” Stiles said, watching with amusement as Derek licked his lips for reasons that had nothing to do with the sudden dryness of his throat. “You know, I think that way would be faster,” he suggested, pointing to another path that ventured away from the trail Derek had been following.

            “You don’t even know where we’re going, Stiles.”

            “Yeah, but it looks shorter.”

            “Your confidence in my leadership skills is flattering, truly. As much as your suggestions are appreciated, I don’t need your help. I actually know where I’m going. Is my title not enough to inspire _any_ reassurance?”

            Stiles gave Derek a doubtful onceover. “Not really. I happen to know that you’ve no idea how to light a fire. You probably don’t know how to use a compass, either.”

            “I’m a camp director, not a boy scout.”

            “Whatever you say, Derek. Just know that if I go missing it’s all your fault. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your _cow.”_

            “Not even remotely funny,” Cora said from behind them.

            “Nobody asked you,” Stiles glowered, affronted. There was no way he was sharing his bread crusts with her this time. There was a line and she’d crossed it.

            “That’s it, down there,” Derek said, pointing to a small meadow beneath them. It was sort of beautiful, the way small slivers of light peeked in from the canopy of branches. Stiles rushed past Derek and peered over the edge, watching as pebbles slipped from the dirt and rolled down the cliffs into the reservoir. The water was shimmering, sunshine reflecting off its rippling surface, and even though Stiles hadn’t felt like swimming before they left, it was suddenly something he needed.

             “Hey, Derek, look,” Stiles called, pointing at a nearby nest of birds when the soil beneath his Converse shoes gave out.  The dirt splintered and cracked before crumbling off into the lake. Stiles flailed his arms wildly and tried reaching back for something to hold onto as he stumbled backwards.

             He felt a hand tugging at the back of his collar, steering him away from the edge.

            “Not so fast. Nobody’s cliff diving until we eat and we’re not eating until we make it down there.”

            Stiles huffed loudly but continued down the well-worn path. “Are we there yet?”

            “No."

**__ **

            “Dude, slow down with those sandwiches. You’re going to give yourself a stomachache,” Scott chuckled, laughing as Stiles shoved another sandwich in his mouth, mayonnaise dripping down his chin as he grunted at Scott in annoyance.

            “Cute,” Allison smirked, giggling as she unfolding her picnic blanket. She’d been silently watching them in amusement since Stiles had called dibs on the perfect patch of grass that was conveniently located in the shade and close to the water. Stiles turned around to face her, his mouth stretching into a wide grin as he swallowed loudly and burped.

            “ _Dude_ ,” Scott whined when Stiles downed the rest of his juice.

            "Don't ‘dude’ me, dude," Stiles said, throwing the empty carton at Scott's face. He cackled when it bounced off of Scott's shoulder and landed unceremoniously in the sand.

            "Stilinski, I hope you plan on picking that up!" Laura crowed from her spot on a tree trunk where she sat next to Lydia. She shook her head when he saluted her but went back to the quiet conversation she'd been having with the redhead.

            “Lydia, come on. The seagulls are beginning to circle in. If you don’t start eating now, I can’t promise I’ll be able to protect our food,” Allison smiled, patting a spot next to her on the plaid picnic blanket.

            Lydia frowned, giving Laura an apologetic look before she let go of the arm that was still applying disinfectant. “Thanks,” Lydia murmured for the second time that afternoon, turning her head so Laura wouldn’t see the way her cheeks flushed. Maybe she could write it off as a reaction to the simmering rays of sun heating her face.

            “Are you sure you don’t want anything for the pain?” Laura asked, eyeing the Band-Aids in concern. Lydia had insisted she didn’t need to be taken care of, but wounds like those needed to be secured before they worsened. She knew Lydia stubbornly despised anything that might make her appear weak.

            “Like I said, I’m alright. I’m not made of glass,” she huffed, brushing herself off.

            “I’ve noticed,” Laura smiled, her eyes raking over Lydia in a challenge that Lydia would have loved to have risen to if it weren’t for the fact her best friend was still beckoning her over.

            “Are we all done here?”

            Laura nodded, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her red lips. “Mhmm. You’re dismissed. Let me know if anything needs to be reapplied after you go swimming.” She watched as Lydia walked away, not bothering to hide the way her eyes followed the sway of Lydia's hips.

            "Are you flirting with one of the 'Silver Creek brats'?" Derek asked in mock surprise, suddenly at her side. She gasped, hip checking him before stalking away.

            “None of your business.”

             Pot, meet kettle.

             He laughed and called after her, "I'm not saying it's a bad thing!" She ignored him in favor of pulling her clothes off and approaching the waterline.

            "Does that mean we can get in the water now?" a boy asked Derek.

            Derek groaned but nodded an affirmative. His response created an abundance of cheers throughout the group of younger campers, making him roll his eyes.

            “I’ll race you in,” Stiles smirked at Derek, shedding his shirt and tossing it to Scott who was lying down leisurely on his belly, head rested in the cradle of his folded arms. Scott grunted and Stiles leered at the camp director, quirking one eyebrow before sliding off his Converse shoes and socks. Derek was too focused on staring intently at the dark trail of hair that ran from Stiles’ navel to the waistband of his red swim shorts. Stiles sped past him, arms waving and face lit up with flagrant joy as he ran towards the beach.

            He winced when his toes touched the sand. Stiles whimpered and began limping towards the water, turning to glare at Derek as if whatever was hurting him was _his_ fault.

            “Holy balls, this sand is practically lava. What even?” he hissed, still doing an awkward dance towards the creek where waves were pulsing against the shore.

            “Oh, don’t be such a big baby, Stilinski,” Laura grinned, rolling her eyes as she splashed in his direction. She was wearing a swimsuit with one tiny red paw in the corner of her bikini top. Stiles was beginning to suspect that her entire wardrobe consisted entirely of Little Paw merchandise.

            He crept further in until the cool water was lapping at his waist. It was like an instant relief from the heat of the sun on his back and the sand on his feet. He sighed in contentment, enjoying it for just a moment, before grinning wickedly at Laura.

            "You're going down," he promised right before he lunged at her, crashing through the water. He cackled wildly when she started to swim away. "Get back here, Hale!"

            "You'll never catch her," Derek informed Stiles, popping up beside him. And wow, this guy was everywhere. How did he pull that off? "She's an Olympic swimmer."

            Stiles blinked rapidly, wondering when exactly Derek had stripped down to his swimsuit. “Took you long enough to catch up,” he smirked. “I won.”

            Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles. A crooked smile twisted Derek’s lips and did funny things to Stiles’ stomach.

             “You did,” Derek nodded. “But you cheated. It’s only fair to give someone heads up,” he grinned, his smile widening as his eyes glinted. He swam in closer and suddenly Laura was forgotten as Derek pressed his body against Stiles’. Stiles shivered at the proximity, at the way their lips were close enough that all Stiles would have had to do was tilt his head up and their lips would be brushing.

            “I’ll race you to the dock. One,” he whispered, his words not distracting Stiles from the way droplets of water clung to the obscene length of Derek’s dark lashes. Stiles could feel the barest sensation of stubble scratching against his cheek.

            “Two,” Derek smirked, looping his arms around Stiles’ neck so that they rested lightly on his bare shoulders. Stiles had no idea what was happening but he was pretty sure he was totally on board.

            Derek released him and used one hand to plunge Stiles down, dunking his head before surging towards the dock. “Three.”

            Stiles shoved upwards, his arms flailing around him until his head breached the surface of the water. He sputtered and spat out the gross water he’d swallowed. “Fucker,” he gasped, swimming after Derek who was still laughing at him. “You haven’t won yet!”

            The water grew murkier the closer they swam to the dock, rays of sun barely penetrating the depths. Stiles liked how disjointed Derek's body looked, when his arms split the surface of the water with each stroke while the rest of him was hidden. It was actually kind of distracting because Derek had really nice arms and shoulders. Wait, wasn't Stiles supposed to be trying to _beat_ Derek, not ogle him? His strokes were faster after that.

            "You don't stand a chance, Hale!" Stiles panted.

            "Says the man who's behind me," Derek called back, pausing long enough to look back at Stiles. The smile on his face was so genuine that Stiles actually couldn't breathe for a minute. It was even more of a distraction than Derek's wet body.

            It was also apparently effective enough in preoccupying Stiles’ attention that Derek won with ease.

            Stiles watched, mouth slack, as Derek hefted himself up onto the dock, muscles practically rippling with the effort. He managed to shake himself out of it, muttering darkly about how Derek's body should be _fucking illegal_ , and swam swiftly the rest of the way to the dock. He was surprised when Derek extended his hand, but grasped it nevertheless, allowing him to pull Stiles up onto the dock beside him.

            "You sure you're not an Olympic swimmer?" Stiles' chest heaved as he spoke. He didn't know about the Hale siblings but he _definitely_ wasn't a swimmer. "I'm pretty sure you cheated, anyway. You totally distracted me."

            "Oh, did I?" Derek asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. "You're just saying that because you're mad that you lost. If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the water." 

            “That doesn’t even make sense,” Stiles grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

            “Have either of you seen Cora?” Laura interrupted, her feet dangling over the edge of the dock and swirling in slow circles as her eyes scanned the beach for her sister.

            “I think they went to go get ice cream. Last I saw, Isaac was perched over her, feeding her grapes as he cooled her down with a fan,” Stiles laughed. It was a slight exaggeration but those two were ridiculous. Cora had a weird thing about hating PDA but she also swore to grind anyone who spoke a word against Isaac into dust.

            “Jackson, stop it,” Laura warned as the dock swayed, tilting drastically as Jackson dug his heels into the grimy wood. The dock bobbed over the thrash of waves and Stiles sat down, his hands gripping onto the edge before Jackson made a show of leaping into the water. The wave splashed Stiles in the face, drenching him again.

            “I just finished drying off, asshole,” Stiles glared at the ripples in the lake, clinging to his towel as he shivered. The dock wobbled again, nearly toppling over as Lydia dove gracefully into the lake. It was a perfect dive and Laura watched in admiration, her eyes glazing over as she watched Lydia’s strong arms slice through the water, the girl’s red hair pooling around her like surging flames.

            “Derek, you okay, buddy?” Stiles asked when the dock wrenched to the left. Derek slid across the slimy surface, lurching forward as he lost his balance.

            “Yeah, I just,” he mumbled, trying to steady himself when the dock swung forward again and Derek fell into the depths of the murky water.

**__ **

             The last thing Derek saw before he fell into the water was the shocked look on Stiles' face; the way his lips had fallen open in a gasp, his amber coloured eyes wide as he outstretched his arm. He’d felt the brush of fingers against his arm, long digits trying to curl around the muscle but failing to grasp anything but air before Derek’s legs gave out.

            The river wasn't as deep as most bodies of water in northern California, but he was disoriented from the suddenness of it all. His head throbbed and his ears buzzed as water flooded his lungs. He felt the tendrils of slick seaweed coil around his hands, and for a moment he swore he could hear the muffled shouts of his name from above as something sharp collided with the back of his head. The water was freezing and Derek felt like ice was surging through his veins. He shuddered as he tried holding his breath, but his lungs protested and his throat tightened. He couldn’t see anything.

              He was submerged in total darkness and all he could feel was seaweed brushing against his shoulder and searing pain from what was probably a gaping gash in the back of his head. His eyes felt heavy and it felt easier, somehow, to relax and let himself slowly drift to the bottom. But then there were hands grasping his shoulder, and then an arm winding around his waist. And he was moving - someone was trying to pull him up from the floor of the lake. He saw a face when they got closer to the surface, pale and dotted with moles, and it was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.

             Stiles hauled him onto the dock, panting as he laid him down so that he was lying down on his back. “Derek? Der?” he heaved, crouching as he moved closer. “Are you alright?”

             When Derek didn’t respond, Stiles tapped him lightly on the cheek, his hands moving frantically over Derek’s face. “Oh god oh god _ohgodohgod_ okay. Everyone back up,” he gulped, raising one hand to show he meant business. “I don’t think he’s breathing. He’s looking a little closer to death than usual,” he grimaced, noting the way Derek’s skin had paled and the way his chest had stilled.

             “Here goes nothing. Derek, just don’t like, die on me or anything. That’d be a bit of a bummer, dude. Not to mention traumatic.”

             “Stilinski,” Laura snapped, her glare practically burning holes in the back of his head.

             “Right,” he nodded. “Please don’t kill me for this if you don’t die first.” He tilted Derek’s chin upwards, pressing down on his forehead and pulling the man’s head back with his other hand to open an airway. Satisfied, he rested his palm on Derek’s chest, waiting for an inhale of breath. When nothing happened he sighed in frustration.

             “Come on, Derek, breathe. You can do that for me, right?” he asked, using his thumb to pinch Derek’s nose shut. He kept the heel of his hand pushed against the camp director’s forehead, his other hand still tilting his chin up. Stiles inhaled, steeling himself before pressing his lips against Derek’s. He counted out a minute in his head, pulling away quickly to assess Derek. He made no movement and Stiles made a little noise of aggravation. He surged forward again, pressing their lips together, careful not to breathe too sharply or to let his mouth linger for too long.

             Still no signs of breathing. Stiles pulled back, falling onto his knees. He kneeled by Derek’s side, ignoring the way his eyes suddenly stung with tears as he splayed a hand on Derek’s chiseled torso. He carefully trailed the pads of his fingers over Derek’s ribs, exhaling in relief when they skidded over the area he’d been looking for. He placed the heel of hand against Derek’s sternum. The teenager clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers as he positioned himself so that he’d be hovering with his shoulders directly over the sternum.

             “If you die on me, Derek Hale, I swear to god I’ll kill you,” Stiles whispered, keeping his arms straight as he pushed, directing all his strength into vicious pumps of his hands against Derek’s chest. In between compressions he relaxed his hands, easing up on the pressure but not removing his hands. His arms were sore when Derek finally started blinking up at him, spitting water onto Stiles’ lap as a shuddered gasp escaped his lips.

             Stiles stared, mesmerized by the steady pulse beneath his fingers and the way he could feel Derek’s shaky breaths vibrating against his flat palms.

            “Stiles?” Derek grunted, squinting up at him as he others began to gather around them.

            “You’re heavy,” Stiles said dumbly, unable to think of anything else.

            “Huh?” he asked, still out of it. Blood trickled down his forehead and Stiles suddenly remembered his panic. “Stiles, are you crying?”

            “I thought you were going to die, you jerk,” Stiles glared, drying his eyes on his towel before lunging at Derek and wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders.

            “Wha-,” Derek gasped. His eyes widened as he stared down as Stiles who was clinging to him like a barnacle.

            “’M hugging you,” he murmured, face pressed against Derek’s shoulder. “Shut up. The way I see it, I just saved your life. You’re forever in debt to me starting now.” Stiles peered up at him through thick lashes. “And if you ever scare me like that again I swear to god I will pee on everything you love. I know where you keep your copy of ‘The Secret’, Derek. This isn’t a game,” Stiles threatened, tightening his grip.

            “I’m sorry,” Derek whispered as he raked his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

            “S’okay. You’re so lucky my dad taught me CPR. Also, I think you’re bleeding on me. You should probably get that checked out,” Stiles said, pulling away from Derek. Derek muttered another apology.

            “Is anyone still up for cliff diving? Besides Derek, that is. I think maybe he should sit this one out,” Lydia suggested, smiling apologetically as she helped Stiles to his feet.

**__ **

            Laura's hands were gentle as she dabbed at the red line across Derek's forehead. He winced, hissing through his teeth at the sting of antiseptic against the broken skin. He couldn't relax, even though everyone else had disappeared through the trees with Lydia leading them. Especially not when the expression painting Laura's features was pure worry.

            The sun was warm against his back when he dipped his head and mumbled an apology.

            "Oh, Der. I'm not mad," Laura assured him, her fingers pressing against the hair around his temples before returning to work on cleaning his cut. "I just - are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the emergency room?"

            "It's not even that deep, Laura," Derek protested instantly, lifting his head to meet her eyes. "It would be a waste of time."

            "I know it's not that bad but you _blacked out_ , Derek." Her tone was urgent but she didn't stop what she was doing, using a clean fingertip to wipe away excess antiseptic. "You gave everyone all of these safety rules this morning and you didn't even follow them yourself. I was so sure you weren't going to open your eyes but..." she paused, eyes lighting up as if something had just become apparent to her.

            "But what?" he pressed.

            "Nothing. I'm just thankful that Stiles knew what to do," Laura said, but he wasn't convinced that was what she'd wanted to say. He watched as she unwrapped a bandage, the bulky brown, square kind, and proceeded to place it over his wound. "Here we go. All done."

            "Thanks, sis."

            "Anytime, big bro," Laura smiled at him then, most of the worry melting away as she saw that he actually was fine. The responding smile was splitting his mouth before he could even think about it. Her eyes darted away from his face, catching on something over his shoulder. "Hey, look, they made it up."

            When Derek followed her line of sight, squinting into the sun, he saw his group of kids and the Little Paw counselors on the only cliff that their parents had deemed acceptable for cliff diving. He could see Lydia and Allison corralling the kids into single file lines with Scott and Aiden at the front of them.

            And then there was Stiles, his back arched as he stretched his arms above his head. When he spotted Laura and Derek watching from the shore, he laughed so loud Derek could hear it across the water. He waved enthusiastically at them, his impish grin widening. Derek snorted at how ridiculous he was but returned the wave anyway.

            Laura hummed thoughtfully, but when Derek turned to question her, she was ignoring him in favor of waggling her fingers at Stiles.

**__ **

            Lydia set a brisk pace now that her feet were no longer hurting her. She pushed past the twins, her plump lips spreading into a smile when they reached the cliff.

            Stiles waved at Derek and Laura, grinning as Derek helped fasten a young girl’s lifejacket before sending her off. Scott’s hand slipped into Allison’s as they climbed carefully.

            “Jackson, hold my shoes,” Lydia ordered, slipping her shoes off her feet before tossing them at him.

            “Why do I have to...?” Jackson began to complain when Lydia silenced him with a look. He muttered unhappily but said nothing as Lydia strutted towards the edge. Her toes curled into the dirt, red nail polish glinting in the evening’s sun. Her swimsuit had a vintage style to it; scarlet red high-waisted bottoms and a matching halter top. She flexed, smiling smugly at the way the twins pouted at not being able to jump first.

            She backed up and then sprinted forward, leaping off the edge. As soon as her feet lifted, she drew her thighs close to her chest. She bent her knees and waist and pulled off three impressive somersaults before splashing into the lake.

            “Show off,” Stiles rolled his eyes when Lydia resurfaced. He crossed his arms over his chest and inched closer to the cliff’s peak where the twins were shoving at each other.

            “Stilinski, your turn,” Jackson grinned, noticing Stiles’ discomfort.

            “Who? Me?” he squirmed, pulling at the strings of his swim trunks. “Why not Allison?” he asked, gesturing towards her as she peered over the edge eagerly.

            “What, you afraid of heights, dork?” Jackson taunted, ignoring the judgmental look Danny gave him.

            “I- No,” Stiles stammered, clamping his mouth shut in frustration. “I’m just not a huge fan of falling at accelerated paces into abyssal depths.  There could be rocks,” he reasoned.

            “Stiles, there aren’t any rocks and the water’s not that deep,” Erica frowned.

            “Nobody’s died so far,” Boyd offered and Stiles blanched.

            “Reassuring. Thanks.”

            “It’s not a far jump. You’ll be fine,” Allison reassured Stiles, squeezing Scott’s hand as she rested her head on Scott’s shoulder.

            Stiles wobbled a little closer until he was teetering over the edge, toes wiggling as he watched the sun dipped behind the silhouette of the terrain. A streak of sunlight painted the middle of the lake in a radiant glow. “Scott,” he whimpered, craning his head to meet his best friend’s gaze. “If I don’t survive this jump, clear my computer history. Don’t ask any questions, just do it. Also tell my dad-,” Stiles began to say when Jackson shoved him on the back and Stiles fell forward.

            His dive was nothing like Lydia’s. It lacked any finesse, any grace, as he hurled towards the water, a wild flail of gangly limbs. He was only under for a minute or so before he popped back up, spitting out water as Lydia swam in circles around him. “I’m alive,” he crooned, waving his arms above his head. “Derek, did you see that?” he asked, turning to grin at the camp director who was sitting cross-legged on his towel.

            Laura glanced between them in barely disguised amusement as Derek ducked his head.

            “I did.”

            “That was great. I want to go again,” he beamed, his enthusiastic hand gestures causing water to splash Lydia in the face. She glared, red lips pulled back into a scowl.

            “Like a child,” she sighed under her breath. She perked up when she noticed Laura watching her. “Hey, Laura, would you mind teaching me how to float? I’ve been trying, but I can’t seem to get the hang of it,” Lydia pouted, fluttering her long lashes.

            “Liar,” Stiles coughed under his breath, swimming away when she tried elbowing him in the ribs. Lydia was an amazing swimmer. The only who could outswim her was Laura, who happened to be an Olympic athlete.

            “Yeah, sure,” she smiled, moving closer to Lydia. “First, you lay on your back,” she said, moving her hands so that they rested on the small of Lydia’s back. He watched the redhead inhale sharply and shook his head in disbelief at her little display. It was worse than that time she’d pretended to not know how to play pool. She’d then proceeded to sink every ball before Aiden had even sunk one.

            Stiles glanced up at the edge of the cliff and watched as Erica and Boyd laced their fingers together. Erica smirked, bumping her shoulder against Boyd’s teasingly.

            “You jump, I jump,” Stiles heard her say. Boyd nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead before they leapt.

            “Oh god, cramp,” Stiles complained, clutching his chest as he swam frantically towards the shore. “I think I might be dying,” he groaned and Scott laughed from beside him.

            “I told you not to eat so much.”

            Stiles huffed, rushing off towards his towel to dry himself. “Whatever, I was getting pruny anyway. Besides, it’s not nearly as fun without the tire swing.”

            “ _You_ broke it,” Scott pointed out.

            “Technicalities,” Stiles shrugged.

            The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting shadows across the water, when Laura decided it was time to gather the kids up and head back to camp. The campers split into different groups as they trekked through the woods, their laughter and talking filling the otherwise silent journey. Derek walked alongside Laura, listening to her bicker with Cora, when he felt a presence to his left. He turned his head to find it was Stiles. Their strides were almost matched, the teen’s shoulders nearly brushing Derek’s as they trudged down the weathered path.

            "Today was pretty awesome, right?" Stiles asked with a pleasant smile playing on his lips. "I mean, aside from the fact that you almost drowned - and I'm still not one hundred percent sure you shouldn't have gone to the hospital after that - I had a really good time."

            "Yeah," Derek agreed, feeling warm all over. "Me too."

            By the time they’d reached camp, the sun had disappeared completely, leaving only the moon’s crescent as a small peel of light. The campers complained about sore feet, heavy eyelids, and empty stomachs. Derek, on the other hand, had no complaints. Not when the pale moonlight illuminated where Stiles’ fingers grazed his as they walked. It was probably accidental, but that didn’t lessen the fluttering in his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful [Allie](http://www.youshinebrighter21.tumblr.com/) and the fantastic [Christian](http://www.trickortreatwolves.tumblr.com/).

            Stiles’ hand twisted around the rusty knob, yanking the door forward as he tumbled into the room. He panted, his cheeks bright red as he ran his hands down his plaid shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles.

            “Derek?” he breathed heavily, squinting as bright rays of morning sunlight oozed in through the gaps in the shutters. Derek’s office was bathed in the glow and it took Stiles a minute to adjust his eyes, to locate Derek sprawled out and cross-legged on the leather couch. “They’re here.”

            “They?” Derek questioned slowly, lowering the thick-rimmed glasses that sat on the ridge of his nose. Stiles gulped. He hadn’t even known the man wore glasses. He could feel an oncoming inner crisis that rivaled that of the bunny teeth discovery or the witnessing of Derek wearing a flower crown. Nothing about Derek Hale was fair. _Nothing._

            “ _Eat, Pray, Love_. Really, dude?” Stiles snickered incredulously as he eyed the dog-eared book in Derek’s hands. Even more endearing was the fact that Derek must have read the novel so many times that all his favourite passages were marked in the corner of the pages.

            “Stiles,” Derek scowled, gritting his teeth when Stiles craned his neck to get a better view of what page he was on, “who is ‘they’?”

             “Hmm?” Stiles asked, tearing his eyes from the book that now sat folded on Derek’s lap. “Oh, right, The Camp Silver Creek kids just got here. Kate Argent’s already made one of the camp counselors cry and Chris has been helping hand out desserts. I’ve never seen anyone slice a pie with so much fury before,” he smirked. His eyebrows drew together in confusion when Derek stared back blankly.

            “And they’re here because…?”

            Stiles gaped, his hands making exaggerated gestures of frustration. “Do you honestly not know? I guess Laura never mentioned it because it’s not on any type of camp schedule, but it’s sort of a tradition. Every year, we play capture the flag with the Silver Creek campers and it’s our year to host the competition.”

            "You can't be serious," Derek said with a frustrated sigh. He tucked his book under his pillow before standing up. He raised a hand when Stiles started to talk, obviously to tell him that he was indeed serious. "No, I know that you are. And Laura wouldn't tell me because she is literally Satan incarnate and her one goal in life is to ruin mine."

            "I thought it was to swim across the English Channel?"

            "She already did that," Derek shook his head, clearly distracted by thoughts of future plans Laura may or may not have for further torture as he slipped his feet into his shoes. "She's bored and she's out to make me miserable."

            “Right, I’m sure. So are you going to join us, or are you going to spend the rest of the evening in your office reading?” Stiles asked, leaning against the door as his elbow collided with a pricy looking vase. The vase wobbled and Stiles shot his hand out, just barely catching it before it hit the floor. The teenager blushed and gripped the handle tightly before returning it to its spot on the shelf.

            Derek sighed as if Stiles had already made his decision for him and reached his book, spreading the pages open with his thumb as he resumed reading. Stiles breathed loudly through his nose, tsking Derek as he snatched the novel from him.

            “I was kidding. It was a joke. There’s no way I’m letting you stay cooped up in your little cabin while the rest of us get annihilated by Silver Creek. There are more of them. I’m pretty sure there are rumors circling that Victoria Argent once killed a man with her bare hands. You’re participating. Deal with it,” he announced, tossing the novel over his shoulder.

            “Your confidence is inspiring.”

            “Thank you, I take my role as a realist very seriously. Now, get up, no man gets left behind.”

            “I’m pretty sure that’s not the proper use of that expression,” Derek glared, pulling himself up. As Stiles hurried him out the door, he cast a longing gaze over his shoulder at the couch.

            “Cora, what’s that on your face?” Derek asked, taking in the bold red lines smeared across her cheeks.

            “The blood of my enemies,” she deadpanned, grinning when her brother choked on his straw and spit out a mouthful of juice.

            “It’s paint, Derek. Don’t worry; it’ll come off,” Stiles assured him and patted the older man on the back. “We hope, anyway. Laura should be coming back any moment now to give us a pep talk.”

            "Speak of the devil," Derek muttered darkly before wrapping his lips around his straw. He sucked on the end of the straw so hard it made a ridiculously loud slurping noise that only made Derek glare harder. He only faltered a little when he saw Stiles looking at him in awe.

            "Harsh, big bro," Laura said as she came to stand beside Cora. She smirked when Derek and Cora rolled their eyes simultaneously. She turned to address the rest of the campers.

            "We haven't beaten those Silver Creek jerks in almost five years and I really want this to be the year we can rub our victory in their faces while they feed us lunch for a whole week. What about you guys?"

            The campers cheered and Derek leaned in closer to whisper in Stiles’ ear. “Who chose her as team captain?”

            “Nobody. It was total anarchy without you. Major bloodshed. We had to pull Cora and Laura apart in order to stop them from killing each other.”

            “Really?’

            “No, you lunatic. We passed around the spirit stick and took a vote. She was elected. This is camp, Derek, not The Hunger Games.”

            “The what?”

            “Hunger- oh man, forget it. You might actually be worse than Scott. Just choose your weapon, good sir,” Stiles groaned, gesturing to the balloons and water guns set out on the table in front of them. He laughed loudly when Derek grabbed the biggest water gun there was, a monster of a thing with a bright green body and red handle. "Of course."

            Before Derek could ask what he meant, Laura was talking again, her voice raised over the talking that had erupted.

            "Since some of you are new, the rules are pretty simple. We have a flag, they have a flag. We're both trying to steal the other's flag. It's pretty much just like any other game of capture the flag you've played - except that when you get doused in water, you're out. Try to stay as dry as possible and don't let those fu- _guys_ take you out. Any questions?"

            Erica’s hand immediately shot up. Laura sighed into her speaker.

            “No, Erica, we’re not allowed to aim for the face. They’re the same rules from last year. And the year before that.” Erica slowly lowered her hand and Laura ignored the loud chorus of boos. “This year is going to be different, okay?” she continued. “If I find out that any of you have sold out our flag’s location to the other team in return for Twinkies, hell will be raised. And no, I’m still not over last year’s defeat.”

            “Twinkies, really?” Derek chuckled, stroking his hand along the side of his water gun. Stiles made a pained sound.

            “Too soon, man, too soon.”

            “It was a year ago.”

            “You don’t understand; you weren’t there. My hands are still kind of pruny from all the dishes we had to wash. This year we’re not even letting Greenberg know our flag’s location, just in case.”

            "Hey!" Greenberg shouted in indignation but, as per usual, everyone ignored him.

            "The point is," Laura said loudly, shooting Stiles and Derek accusatory looks, “we are going to win today. And it is going to be glorious."

            There was more cheering as they left to meet Silver Creek on the battlefield.

            “Sure you can handle that, big guy?” Stiles asked, his warm brown eyes bright with amusement. Derek’s thick eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, his water gun tilted upwards so that the camp director was staring down its neon green barrel.

            “Shut up, I know what I’m doing, Stiles,” Derek grunted as he toyed with the plastic trigger. His hands felt too bulky for the gun that had clearly been made for kids, and not grown men who had things like jobs, college degrees, and chest hair, goddamn it.

            A moment later his finger accidentally pressed down, brushing against the tacky pink trigger. He squawked and Stiles’ chest heaved painfully with laughter as a gush of water splashed Derek in the face.

            “I was going to mention the fact you’d been holding it the wrong way, but you clearly had it under control,” Stiles snickered, annoyingly smug.

            "If you guys don't stop flirting, you're going to give away our position," Cora hissed from where she was crouching behind a tree.

            Warmth spread from Stiles’ cheeks to the tips of his ears and he ducked his head down, pretending to inspect the water balloons in each of his hands. He avoided looking at Derek for as long as he possibly could.

            "I think I see someone from Silver Creek coming this way," Cora announced a few minutes later. She nodded to the left and gestured for them to be quiet. Treading through the woods ahead of them was a couple of kids with water guns clutched to their chests as they looked wearily around them."They aren't even trying to be quiet."

            “Couldn’t we be playing something a little less aggressive? Hide and go seek, maybe?”

            Stiles snorted and dug his hand into his pocket, fetching a piece of crumpled paper. “If you think this is bad, you should have seen last year’s game. We played with paintball guns. Anyways, you’ll be fine. Lahey’s got our back,” he said, gesturing to the boy with curly hair who’d already snuck up on the rival campers.

            “Lahey, as in the kid with goo-goo eyes for my sister? The one with neatly manicured nails?”

            Stiles nodded. “The very one. Don’t be fooled by his angelic cheekbones. He may look like a cherub, but last year he slashed Kate’s tires after she claimed his scarf was ‘so last fall’.”

            “I swear if you two don’t shut up, I’ll go friendly fire on your asses,” Cora growled from her hiding spot.

            “You’d do that to your own brother? Wow,” Stiles gasped.  

            She shrugged unapologetically. “We’re Hales, not Winchesters.” She jerked her neck in the direction of the bushes before creeping towards them. “The intruders have been caught. We need to find a new hiding place before our positions are discovered.”

             Stiles and Derek followed her quietly, not speaking until they were fully cloaked in the lush green leaves of the obnoxiously large plants Kate had started growing around her camp.

            Stiles smoothed out the paper he’d been holding, hoisting it up so Derek could see. On the pale, wrinkled page was a badly drawn doodle that appeared to be a sketch of the two campsites. Both Silver Creek and Little Paw were labeled.

            “Scott and I have been playing this game for years. We’ve never once found the Silver Creek flag, and we’re not entirely sure it exists at this point, but we’ve narrowed down the possible locations,” Stiles said, pointing to the three blobs that were ‘flags’ according to the teen’s chicken-scratch labeling.

            In the center of the map were two stick people. One of them had giant eyebrows and was scowling. The scowling stick person was in the arms of the other stick person. Derek narrowed his eyes at the drawing.

            “Why are you taller than me?” he demanded, taking in the speech bubbles where Stiles’ stick person was promising to protect the angry Derek doodle.

            “Derek, this is war. We don’t have time to argue indisputable facts right now,” he sighed, pulling the map away from the older man.

            Derek huffed loudly and was about to say something when they heard the sharp snap of twigs. The camp director’s head whipped around and he spotted Gerard peeking out from behind a tree, the old man’s water gun pointed at Stiles’ face.

            “ _Stiles_ ,” Derek yelled, leaping at the counselor and tackling him to the ground so that the stream of water that shot from Gerard’s gun just narrowly missed him and hit the tree instead.

            Stiles panted loudly, his grin widening as Derek rested his head on the boy’s shoulder. He could feel the slight rasp of stubble on his neck and it felt awesome. There was no way to restrain the delirious giggles that escaped him and Derek quickly clamped his hand over Stiles’ mouth to silence him.

            “Are you _trying_ to give us away?” he whispered into Stiles’ ear, still not moving. Stiles shuddered. Derek slowly removed his hand and rolled off of him when it seemed like Stiles had calmed down, no longer shaking with laughter.

            “You saved me,” he gasped teasingly, thick eyelashes fluttering as he gazed up at Derek. “My hero. I’m swooning, really. Be still, my heart.”

            Derek rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

            “No seriously, you’re better at this game than you let on. That menace is still out there,” he smirked, pointing in the direction of the tree where Gerard had been standing. “Sic ‘em, boy.”

            Stiles heard the branch snap and pressed his hand against Derek's chest. Their eyes met and Stiles gestured in the direction he was pretty sure it had come from. Derek nodded and crept forward with his water gun held up. His finger hovered over the trigger as he got closer and closer to the edge of the bush they’d been hiding behind.

            But then Stiles recognized the sound of Scott's stupid boots as they crunched across the underbrush.

            "Wait!" Stiles shouted at the same time as Scott's voice cried, "Don't shoot!"

            Derek’s finger paused on the trigger and he frantically looked between Scott and Stiles before lowering his toy.

            “Trigger happy, much?” Stiles teased, rising to his feet.

            Derek frowned at him and folded his arms over his burly chest. “I was trying to protect you.”

            “From Scott. Gee, thanks buddy,” he laughed, patting Derek on the shoulder. “Do I have damsel in distress written on my forehead today? I think I’ll be alright.”

            “Any sign of the Silver Creek flag yet?” Scott inquired, carding a hand through his tousled hair.

            Stiles shook his head. “Not yet. We escaped a group of their campers awhile back and then we narrowly dodged Gerard’s wrath.”

            Scott visibly brightened then, cheerfully informing them he’d already caught Gerard moments ago. “Serves him right, too. The other camp assigned everyone positions but he sort of went rogue after Victoria Argent was declared team leader. He kept trying to hit campers in the face with water balloons and Chris ended up chasing him through the forest, yelling about some code.”

            “Have you seen Cora?” Stiles asked, eyes scanning the span of the forest.

            “Right before I found you guys I saw her take off in the opposite direction, muttering something about noisy idiots.”

            Stiles laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess we should go find the others.”

            When the trio finally tracked Cora down, she was in a clearing, standing with her water gun pressed against her chest. Lydia, Allison and the twins crowded in front of her like some sort of frontline for a war, their water guns and balloons at the ready. Stiles squeaked when he saw them, tried to back away from the clearing, and ended up tripping over his own feet. He sprawled on the ground at Scott's feet.

            "Are you okay?" Scott laughed, extending his hand to help his best friend up.

            "Shhhhh," Derek hissed, because somehow the others hadn't heard Stiles' display of ungainliness and were still squared off in some sort of silent battle. The three of them ducked behind a cluster of trees and watched in silence.

            Lydia was the first to speak. Her painted red lips turned up into a smirk and she flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "You might as well give yourself up, Hale. We've already got Jackson and half of the campers."

            "Don't forget Greenberg," Allison said brightly.

            "You don't stand a chance," Lydia finished, tilting her head as she looked expectantly at Cora.

            “Can we just get this over with?” Jackson complained. “My hair gel’s almost rinsed out, thanks to the water.”

            Scott turned to look at Stiles and Derek with a determined expression. "We can't let her go down alone, you guys."

            "Why not?" Stiles whined, shaking his nearly empty bag at Scott as if that was reason enough. "We're running low on ammunition and we're clearly outnumbered."

            "She's my sister," Derek interrupted, glaring at Stiles.

            “Sure, pick _now_ to give a damn,” Stiles whispered furiously. “You know, Scott, there’s a fine line between heroism and _suicide_.”

            "Stiles," Scott pouted and fuck; he knew exactly what he was doing. "We _have_ to help her."

            "Goddamnit," Stiles huffed. "Fine. Let's go _fucking_ save _Cora_."

            Stiles ran back into the center of the field, releasing a war cry as he tossed a balloon at Chris’ shoulder. He cheered in triumph when it burst and Chris stared over at him in disbelief.

            “Take that, Argent. We’ve got your back, Cora.”

            Cora rolled her eyes, dodging when Victoria aimed her super turbo water gun at her.

            It took two tries before one of his balloons hit their target, but he whooped when he finally landed a hit on Matt. He turned around to high five his best friend, only to find Scott clutching his drenched t-shirt.

            “Yo, Scotty, you okay?” he asked, rushing to his side. Scott was staring over at Allison, water cascading down his stomach.

            “I-I’ve been hit.”

            “No,” Stiles whispered, tugging at Scott’s shoulder as he urged his friend to hide behind a nearby bush. They both crouched. When he decided they were safe, he examined Scott. “No, no, it can’t be. You’re going to be okay. I can’t- it’s too soon.”

            Scott nodded, sighing as he glanced over the bush’s hedge where Allison was standing, a smug smile on her face as she rolled a water balloon around in her palm. “It’s alright, Stiles. Save yourself.”

            “ _No_ ,” Stiles whimpered, fisting Scott’s shirt in his hands as Cora eliminated another Silver Creek kid. “No man gets left behind.”

            “Listen to me. Cora’s got this situation handled. I’m Allison’s prisoner now. My fate could be worse. You can still get their flag.”

            Stiles sniffed loudly, letting go of his friend. “Your bravery won’t be forgotten.”

            “Stiles, we’re going, _now_ ,” Derek grunted, gripping Stiles’ hand tightly and yanking him away from the battle. Cora ducked her head and escaped without them.

            “Where’s Lydia?” Stiles asked as they raced towards Silver Creek territory.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” Derek murmured.

            Laura stopped moving when she heard a rustle of leaves. She hunkered down behind a tree. Her back rubbed against the trunk as she tried to slow her breathing. Her head snapped to the left when she heard the leaves stirring again. She couldn't see anything but trees, trees and more trees. She relaxed with a huff of breath, only to jump back into position when a fluffy little rabbit hopped out from behind a bush and looked directly at her, nose twitching. Laura snorted and lowered her gun.

            She kept moving for a while, ducking behind trees and saturating any of the Silver Creek campers who happened to cross her path with the water in her gun. She was a woman on a mission and nothing was going to stop her.

            As she reached the edge of the forest, the lake visible through the trees, she just knew where the flag was hidden. Lydia was a genius, sure, but she was also a little predictable. Laura carefully crept across the sand and onto the dock. The Little Paw canoe was in the water, swaying slowly in the soft current of the lake. Laura knelt down to reach under the seat. She grinned when her fingers brushed cloth.

            When she stood up, she had the Silver Creek flag grasped in her hand.

            “Not so fast, Hale,” Lydia snarled, her red nails tapping against her hips. Laura cursed under her breath and swung around to face her.

            The fabric of Lydia’s pale blue skirt swirled around her thighs and her bright red hair was tied unto a neat bun. “There’s nowhere to run. Just put that thing back where it came from and we can have a nice little chat about which dish detergent removes stains the best.”

            “Is that your version of smack talk?” Laura snickered, sitting down on the stern as Lydia took another step closer. “You’re not getting the flag. You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands first.”

            “Is that a challenge?” Lydia asked, hoisting herself onto the canoe. It was a wonder she didn’t lose her balance when wearing heels. Laura waited another moment before kicking off her shoes, winking at Lydia before leaping into the water.

            “That’s cheating, Hale,” the girl shrieked, running to the other side of the boat only to see Laura had already disappeared beneath the murky water with their grey flag.

            Lydia balled her hands into tightly clenched fists, glancing down at the outfit she’d chosen to wear. Even though the shoes were the only designer thing she was wearing that day, the flowery blue skirt was one of her favorites and the material was incredibly delicate. Besides, in the time that it would have taken her to remove her authentic leather jacket, Laura would have been too far to reach anyway.

            “Not worth it,” she sighed, digging through her purse to find her cell phone. “Kate, Laura is making her way upstream with the flag. Yes, I let her get away. You would have done the same. Excuse me for not wanting to take in a dip in the lake while fully dressed. Plus, she’s a better swimmer than I am.”

            Lydia heard a soft chuckle on the other side of the line and rolled her eyes. “If the Hales don’t want to fight fair, neither should we. Gather up the troops and meet them on their turf. Don’t let Laura get away. You’ve got one chance, sweetie, don’t mess it up,” she hummed, hanging up without waiting for Kate’s reply.

            Laura was dripping wet, shivering and creeping through the woods with the Silver Creek flag tucked in her belt when Danny found her. When she saw him, she leaned against a tree, bent at the waist and panting.

            "Thank god," She managed to press out when she finally caught her breath. "I've been trying to find someone from our team. I got the flag."

            "Yeah, I figured," Danny gestured to the flag. "How'd you get wet?"

            "I jumped into the lake to get away from Lydia," Laura told him. She swiped her hand across her forehead where lake water and sweat were dripping down into her eyes. "I really hope it doesn't count me out."

            "I don't think it does, but maybe I should carry the flag just to be safe?" Danny questioned.

            Laura nodded, ruefully handing it over. “You’ll be careful, right?” she asked, tilting her head as Danny palmed the silver fabric.

            “You do know it’s a game, right?” he chuckled, bending to reload his water gun in the lake. Laura’s gaze steeled.

            “A week’s worth of putting up with Kate Argent’s arrogance isn’t a game,” she hissed, surging forward to snatch the flag back from Danny. Danny grinned and dodged easily. He resealed the barrel of his plastic gun and turned to face her. His smile was bright and Laura’s reserve faltered a bit when faced with Danny and his stupidly cute dimples. If he and McCall, with his ridiculous puppy dog eyes, ever combined their forces, they would have enough cuteness between the two of them to take over the world. 

            “Okay, fine,” he sighed, biting his lip as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I, Danny Mahealani, swear to do everything within my ability to protect this flag from Silver Creek in order to prevent us from having to endure the wrath that is Kate Argent’s ego.”

            Laura huffed but stepped out of the way. It was stupid, but she felt some of the tension in her stomach disappear, oddly reassured. “Well? What are you waiting for? A written dismissal? Shoo! The Silver Creek jerks will probably be here any minute,” she reminded him, lightly pushing him in the direction of their headquarters. Danny grinned and saluted her before sprinting off towards their camp.

            "Could you please slow down? Not all of us are from a family of athletic freaks of nature," Stiles was panting, heaving each word out with a rush of breath. His forehead and neck were coated with a layer of sweat and Derek really wanted to push him against a tree and lick it from his skin. Yeah, going slower was definitely a good idea.

            "Sorry," he grunted, averting his eyes away from the long line of Stiles' neck.

            “Also, could you please stop looking at the ground as if it’s personally offended you? It’s starting to creep me out.”

            “Anything else, princess?” Derek gritted.

            Stiles blushed and ducked his head, burying his hands in his pockets as he trailed behind Derek. “It’s not my fault I don’t have that kind of stamina, _Jesus_ ,” he grunted, blushing harder when he realized what he’d said. Derek smirked and Stiles narrowed his eyes in response. “Oh, shut up. How old are you anyway, twelve?”

            Derek rolled his eyes and was about to retort when he heard something buzzing.

            “Do you hear that?” he asked, spinning around.

            “No, Derek, I’ve suddenly gone deaf. _Yes, I can hear it_.”

            A sudden realization dawned on Derek and he blocked Stiles with his hand so that the teen stumbled into his flat palm.

            “Hey, a little head’s up before you shove a guy?” Stiles grumbled, clutching his chest.

            “Our walkie-talkies, Stiles. Someone is trying to contact us.”

            “Right, I forgot about the whole lack of cell phone reception thing,” Stiles sighed, retrieving the large chunk of plastic from his bag before holding in between them. “How _silly_ of me. For a second I thought we were living in the 21st century.”

            “Yeah, yeah. Just pass me the device,” Derek groaned, making grabby hands at Stiles.

            “As if. Like you’d even know what to do with it,” Stiles grinned as he reached for the on button. “Little Hale, do you read me? This is Agent Stilinskinator with Agent Broody Brow. We are currently straddling the border between headquarters and enemy territory. Over.”

            “Broody Brow? Are you kidding me?” Derek snarled.

            “Yes, we…read you, Stiles. Danny needs back up. He’s got the flag. It’s urgent.”

            “Roger That. We’ll be there as soon as possible, Little Hale. Over.”

            “I swear to god Stiles if you ever call me Little Hale again-“

            “This is Agent _Stilinskinator_ speaking. Over.”

            “You little shit,” Cora hissed on the other side of the line.

            Stiles snickered as he edged away from Derek. They both jumped when they heard the sudden crunch of leaves. Stiles gasped when he caught a glimpse of dirty blond hair.

            “Agent Cora, we’ve got a code silver, I repeat, code silver. Mayday. _Mayday_. Over.”

            “What the hell is a code silver, Stilinski?”

            “Oh come on, how do you not know this stuff?”

            “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you came up with it ten minutes before the game started?”

            “Fair enough. Kate Argent has located us. We have to go, like, now. Out,” Stiles whispered, shutting off the walkie-talkie just as Kate snuck up behind them.

            “Well, look what we have here,” she purred, her long fingers trailing across the trunk of a tree as she smirked at them. "You two look like little sitting ducks out here, all alone in the woods. Just waiting for someone to come and pick you off."

            "I think you'd probably talk us to death before anyone got us out," Stiles snarked, rolling his eyes. "Besides, it's too late. Our camp already got your flag."

            "Ah ah ah, a little birdy told me that the flag hasn't made it back to your side yet," Kate shook her head with a laugh, curly blonde locks falling against her shoulders. "It also sounded a lot like you guys were meant to be the backup. Which is just too bad, isn't it? Considering you aren't going anywhere."

            "Is it just me or does it sound like she's planning on murdering us?” Stiles asked Derek, who hadn't said a word since Kate showed up.

            "I'm not going to murder you, kid," the blonde said, slowly as if she didn't think Stiles would understand if she didn't pause between each word. "I'm just going to ensure victory for my camp. Again."

            "Is that so?" Stiles inquired, quirking his eyebrow.

            "She's right, Stiles," Derek said, finally. "It's too late."

            And Stiles would have believed him, would have believed that Derek was going to let Kate squirt them with her giant water gun, if it weren't for his fingers digging into Stiles' wrist. It was obviously a sign for Stiles. And maybe Derek meant something else but Stiles took it as 'get a balloon out of your bag and get ready to use it'.

            "You always were really good at giving me what I wanted, Der," Kate hummed with a grin.

            Her words were the fuel that Stiles needed. He wrapped his fingers around a balloon and slowly drew it from his bag. When he had it free, he whipped his arm up quickly and beamed as he flung it, aiming for her face. The balloon popped upon contact, soaking her hair and drenching the grey tank top she’d chosen for the occasion. Her matted hair stuck to her neck, wet curls now a mess as she flicked her wrists, wringing her hands as she glowered.

            “ _You_ ,” she thundered.

            “I hate to break it to you, but the whole villainous speech thing isn’t really working. You run a summer camp, not a biker gang,” Stiles snickered.

            “You’re wrong if you think this changes _anything_. My niece took out a quarter of your team before they’d even drawn their weapons.”

            “Ooh, scary. We’re cowering in fear, shaking in our boots,” he sneered, smug as he armed himself with another balloon. “Cora’s on her way. I wouldn’t be so quick to underestimate her. Our holding cells are that way, fyi,” Stiles said, gesturing to their camp. “I’m sure Laura will be happy to see you.”

            Kate sighed loudly before storming off.

            “That was awesome.”

            “You hit someone with a water balloon. Groundbreaking.”

            Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek and folded his arms over his chest. “For someone who just got their ass saved yet again by yours truly, your gratitude is annoyingly underwhelming.”

            “Sorry,” Derek shrugged. “Excuse me for remembering that this is a game and not an actual battle zone.”

            “Says the one who made us go back for Cora when she got ambushed. This is total war. Our nation, I mean camp, is at stake.”

            “It’s really not.”

            “It’s okay, you’re new. You’ll learn,” Stiles promised, smiling as he patted Derek’s cheek. “Also, coast is clear. I think it’s time we go find Danny or Cora.”

            “Good thinking.”

            They walked in silence for awhile, or at least near silence as Stiles hummed to himself. He seemed to be in deep thought, almost radiant as the evening’s sun created a halo in his unkempt hair. Stiles looked best like that, with sleep mussed hair and a plain white t-shirt that kept rucking up. There was a faraway look in caramel coloured eyes, a glint of sunlight reflecting off pools of amber, and for a moment Derek let himself enjoy the younger man’s company.

            “What are you thinking about?”

            “How many euphemisms could be made from ‘water guns’.”

            Derek massaged the ridge of his nose and groaned. “Of course.”

            Stiles’ laughter was loud and unabashed, as if he didn't care anymore about getting caught by the other camp. The sound echoed through the trees, catching Derek off guard, even though he thought he was getting used to Stiles surprising him. It came as no surprise that he'd let himself get so distracted by it, even allowing himself to grin at Stiles, that he didn't hear someone getting closer.

            "Are you trying to get both of you out, Stiles?" Danny called out.

            “Maybe,” Stiles admitted. “We’ve been playing this game all day. I’m a growing young man, I need my food.”

            “Maybe we’d be done by now if the two of you weren’t off frolicking through the forest,” Danny smirked, signaling for them to follow him.

            “I resent that,” Stiles glared, his eyes narrowing as Danny’s gaze flicked back and forth between him and Derek. “On the other hand, I’m flattered to learn we’re so needed. Had I known the entire game’s fate was dependent on us, maybe I’d have swooped in to save you sooner.”

            “Sure, if you call me sneaking up on you two ‘saving’,” Danny laughed, shaking his head as he squeezed the flag that dangled from his pocket. “You two are just lucky that I’m the one who found you, not one of the Silver Creek kids.”

            “He kind of has a point,” Derek whispered, nudging him.

            “Hey, Derek?”

            “Mmm?”

            “Shut up,” Stiles snapped.

            Stiles should have known better than to assume they’d be able to just be able to stroll up to their flag, unchallenged. But there was that whole deal with not looking a gift horse in its mouth or whatever, so he’d bounced up and down excitedly when they’d spotted their flag flapping in the distance.

            “Easy peasy, Mahealani,” Stiles grinned, bounding forward when he heard someone snicker behind him.

            “Really, Stiles, you thought we’d give up without a fight?” Lydia asked, shaking her head in disappointment.

            “Hoped,” he corrected her.

            “Oh, honey,” Lydia tsked.

            “Martin. How nice of you to drop in,” Cora smiled, emerging from behind the trees. “Came to watch your team lose?”

            Lydia’s eyes widened, bugging out as Cora aimed a water pistol at her chest.

            “But I thought you…,” the redhead whispered.

            “Allison? Not quite. Getting away from her was hell, but the rest of the camp came to my rescue. Isaac, Erica and Boyd were particularly helpful. We lost more than half our men, but I escaped,” she explained, her luscious lips settling into a smirk. “Hasta la vista, _mother_ -” 

            “ _Cora_ ,” Derek reprimanded.

            “Fine,” Cora sighed, rolling her eyes as she squeezed the trigger and sprayed Lydia. She muttered kill joy under her breath.

            Lydia yelped and jumped back. Derek reached out a hand to steady her but she slapped it away and fixed him with a glare.

            "It doesn't matter if you got me out," Lydia hissed at them. "You still have to get around the rest of our camp to get to your flag."

            "You mean those two?" Stiles asked, pointing to the left. They all turned to watch as Danny ran past a very wet set of twins and grabbed the Little Paw flag. He held the maroon flag above his head, grasped in his hand with the Silver Creek flag and laughed victoriously.

            Lydia paled, the thin line of her lips twisting into a snarl.

            “Whatever, you won this time. The total lack of competition was getting boring, anyway,” she shrugged, making a show of flipping her hair before strutting off towards her camp.

            “Best. Day. Ever. God, I wish Scott was here to see the look on her face,” Stiles beamed, jumping up and down when Danny returned to them with both flags in hand. Derek found himself enticed by the way Stiles’ shirt rucked up as he leapt in excitement, Stiles’ white tee exposing a trail of coarse hair leading down to the waistband of the teenager’s plaid shorts. Distracted, Derek’s fingers pressed down on the trigger.

            He didn't realize what was happening until Stiles yelped and jumped away from him, arms up to shield himself from the sudden stream of water.

            “Dude, what the fuck!” he shouted, sputtering like he'd been dunked under water and had just come up for air.

            Derek dropped his gun, releasing the trigger as he blushed. Stiles’ now soaked shirt clung to his chest. The damp material was stretched obscenely in all the best -worst- places, highlighting the slight definition of muscle Derek had always guessed was there. Sure, Stiles liked to make jokes about Derek being able to benchpress a bus, but he was hardly the lanky teen he made himself out to be. Derek determinedly _didn’t_ salivate.

            “Whoops,” Derek gulped, ducking his head when Cora snorted.

            “Oh, you are so going to pay for that, Hale,” Stiles gasped, pulling out one of his remaining water balloons. The counselor grinned, holding his arm back for a moment before launching the balloon at Derek’s abdomen.

            Derek stared down in shock when it popped, clutching his Henley in surprise as Stiles threw another water balloon at him.

            "The whole point of the game is to get the _other_ team wet," Cora called to them.

            "Derek started it!" Stiles cried, grasping another balloon in his long fingers and aiming. He released it with a shout of, "And now he's going down!"

             "They are literal children," Cora said to Danny, shaking her head. But there was no real heat behind her words, especially not with the smile splitting her lips wide open.

            "I think you're out of balloons," Derek said, choosing to ignore his sister.

             "I think you're right," Stiles nodded. He dropped his bag and looked at Derek with wide eyes. "Should I run now?"

            Derek wanted to chase him, throw him over his shoulder and drop him in the lake; he really did. But Stiles was wearing a white t-shirt. Of course he was. The water he was dripping with was cold, thanks to the slight breeze coming through the trees. Even worse, his nipples were pebbled, poking out against the material in a way that made it impossible for Derek to look away.

            He licked his lips, swallowing around the lump that was his heart beating roughly in his throat, and tried not to think about how they would taste like lake water and sweat if he ran his tongue slowly across them.

             "Uh, Derek?" Stiles squeaked.

            “Mmm?”

            “Oh god, he’s still with us,” Cora laughed as Stiles looped an arm around her shoulder. She blanched and scrunched up her nose. “Oh god, what’s the smell?”

            Stiles sniffed the air. “Ah, that’d be the sweet smell of victory.”

            “If by victory, you mean lake water, then sure,” she gagged, pushing him away.

            “I can’t wait to catch up with the others. The look on Kate’s face is something I need to see.”

            “The only thing you two dorks _need_ is a shower.”

            Stiles rolled his eyes, ignoring her as he reached for the buzzing walkie-talkie in his pocket. “Laura? Yes, this is Agent Stilinskinator. The flag has been retrieved. I’ve got Sergeant Dimples, Little Hale and Broody Brows with me. We’ll be there soon. Over.”

            “ _Stiles_ ,” all three of them shrieked at the same time before chasing him back to camp.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Derek’s parents die in a house fire, Derek moves back to Beacon Hills to take care of his younger sisters. He finds himself entrusted with the responsibility of running his family’s camp – Little Paw. Despite hating everything about camp, including s’mores and dumb campfire songs, Derek takes on the role of Camp Director. He does so while secretly praying he doesn’t finish the next two weeks with some sort of law suit on his hands. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but it proves long enough to mend family bonds and to fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: the amazing [Conner](http://studmuffinstilinski.tumblr.com/).

            The cabin was blissfully empty when Stiles woke up. The quiet and the cool morning air lulled him in and out of sleep for a while; eyes fluttering open every few minutes. Finally, he reached for his phone and was pleased to find he still had an hour until he needed to get out of bed, get ready and go start crafts for some of the younger campers. He wiggled around on the mattress, digging his toes into the sheet, until he was comfortable. He shoved his blanket away, snagged the waistband of his sweatpants with his fingers and tugged them down his hips.

            Stiles' hand was cold but he grasped his cock anyway, relishing in the shiver it sent crawling up his spine. He licked his lips and then bit down, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he let out a muffled moan. He flicked his thumb across the head, gasping softly at the sensation. The teen tipped his head back as he started to thrust his hips into his closed fist. A grunt fell from his lips at the tightening of his grip.

            It had clearly been a while since he'd last gotten off, if the feeling in his stomach and groin were anything to go by. His mouth was open wide, moans escaping his throat. He could feel it building in his core, drawing his body taut, back arching away from the mattress.

            His soft cry was drowned out by creaking of the door opening.

            "Stiles, are you awake?" Derek's voice trailed off when realized what he had walked in on.

            And Stiles tried not to die on the spot when warm splashes of come landed on his abdomen. Stiles flinched, hands releasing his cock as if he’d been burnt. He reached for a pillow, pulling it in front of him and gripping it with trembling hands.

            Derek’s mouth hung open, unable to stop staring at the heavy heaves of Stiles’ chest. A flush of crimson trailed along the teen’s abdomen, coloring his neck and face as waves of heat seemed to radiate off him. Derek’s eyes dragged downward, catching on a smattering of moles on Stiles’ thigh. Stiles squirmed under the heat of Derek’s gaze, suddenly wishing he had more to cover himself with than the pillow pressed against his crotch. Fuck, now he’d have to wash his sheets _and_ the pillow. Stiles squeaked in protest and Derek’s gaze jerked upward, as if having been snapped out of his reverie. He couldn’t help but notice the way the tips of Derek’s ears turned red, like he’s been caught in the act of doing something he shouldn’t be.

            “Derek?” Stiles coughed. He felt like a human furnace, fire rippling beneath the surface of his skin as his voice shook. “God, you Neanderthal. Haven’t you heard of _knocking_?”

            The camp director tore his eyes away, glancing instead at his feet as he cringed. “Scott said you’d be sleeping. He didn’t suggest that you might be uh…” Derek gulped, making a vague gesture when Stiles groaned.

            “Oh god, we’re so not talking about this. This isn’t happening.”

            “Stiles-“

            “Nope. I’m a fan of avoiding my problems until they go away. I’m going to close my eyes and when I open them you’re not going to be here. And then I’m going to pretend Derek freaking Hale never saw my dick. Got it?” he asked, shielding his eyes with his palm.

            “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade.”

            “ _One_ ,” the teen began loudly. “ _Two_.”

            Stiles heard a loud sigh followed by the cabin door slamming shut.  When he moved his hand, he found the room empty once more. His fingers felt numb where they were still gripping the pillow and his chest was nearly aching from the jackhammer beat of his heart.

            “Fuck,” he groaned, falling backwards onto his mattress.

            “Thank you,” Laura said after Lydia dropped a scoopful of scrambled eggs onto her plate. The redhead looked surprised and Laura just smiled at her.

            She'd heard some of the things her campers were saying to the Silver Creek campers who were serving breakfast. "I'm not a sore winner."

            "Unlike some of your fellow campers," Lydia said through pursed lips.

            Laura laughed and eyed the gravy in suspicion. Lydia caught the glance and frowned as she swatted at the other girl’s hand with her wooden spoon.

            “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she warned. “I’m pretty sure I saw Ethan spit in it this morning. I can vouch for the eggs but that’s pretty much it.”

            Laura’s hand fell to her side. “Suddenly the bread is looking much more appetizing. Are you coming to the dance tonight?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to, not really. The way Lydia managed to somehow still look adorable with her hair swept beneath a hairnet and her lacy dress covered by a ragged apron had managed to derail Laura’s thoughts.

            Lydia was about to reply when Derek stumbled into the room, just narrowly avoiding walking into a beam.

            “Der, are you okay?”

            “Yeah I’m uh,” her brother blushed, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings.

            “You’re looking a little feverish. You did almost lose a finger an hour ago while trying to help the kids build birdhouses,” Laura pointed out.

            “Laur, I don’t have a fever. I promise,” he sighed, catching her hand when she tried placing her palm against his forehead. “I just um, saw something I wasn’t supposed to. And I’m processing.”

            “Uh huh. You’re blushing, like a lot. You’re acting weirder than that time you walked in on Cora and Isaac making out on the couch.”

            “I really don’t need to be reminded, Laur.”

            “Well maybe if you didn’t sneak up on people it wouldn’t be a problem. Oh my _god,_ ” she gasped, coming to a sudden realization. “You caught someone jerking off, didn’t you?”

            “Laura,” he hissed, glancing nervously around the room in case anyone was eavesdropping.

            Lydia watched the exchange in amusement, green eyes staring between them and red lips pursed as she spilled a pool of gravy onto Derek’s plate.

            “I’m right, aren’t I? Was it Jackson? I heard he moans his own name when he comes. Boyd? Scott? Oh my god, it was _Stiles_ , wasn’t it?” she gaped. Laura bounced on the balls of her feet and nudged Derek with her elbow.

            “We’re not having this conversation,” Derek decided, snatching his plate back from Lydia.

            “Okay, just be careful. Try not to fall down the stairs or something. I don’t care how beautiful his dick was, it’s not worth breaking a leg over.”

            “I hate you.”

            “Lies. I’m your favorite sibling.”

            “That doesn’t say much,” Derek huffed, glaring as he moved to the opposite side of the room with his meal. He sat at an empty table, sliding his plate across the surface. He picked up his fork with a sigh, scraping his eggs into a heap and stabbing at them. Laura dropped down into the seat across from him as he lifted the forkful to his mouth.

            "We still have to decide on the theme for the dance tonight," she informed him, sniffing at the slice of toast she'd grabbed. She shrugged and bit into it before looking at him questioningly.

            He rolled his eyes. "Can you please explain to me again why we waited so late to pick a theme? Shouldn't we have picked it, oh I don't know, before camp started?"

            Laura’s face dropped and she stared down at her meal, not looking Derek in the eye. “We did have a theme picked. Mom always planned it in advance but she liked to keep it a surprise,” Laura said quietly.

            Derek breathed deeply, giving her a significant look. “Last minute planning then. That’s fine. We’ll think of something.”

            “We better. Lydia already promised me a dance.”

            Derek raised an eyebrow and watched as his sister played with her eggs. “Since when are you two a thing?”

            “We’re not a thing,” she shrugged. “She’s just a great dancer. Lydia’s the only one who can keep up with me and you know how I enjoy a challenge.”

            “If you say so.”

            “I do. Speaking of which, I hope you don’t mind, but she may have told Danny about this morning’s incident.”

            “She did what?” Derek demanded, leaping up. The table wobbled and his carton of milk fell onto his lap, soaking his jeans.

            Laura smiled innocently, grinning around her mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Also, I’d stay away from the gravy. Apparently our food has been contaminated by pissed off campers.”

            “Dude, I’m sorry to hear about, you know,” Scott frowned, taking a seat beside Stiles. He slid his tray down beside his friend’s, brown eyes filled with pity.

            “Could you be any more cryptic? I know we always joke about being telepathically linked but I’m going to need a little bit more information than that to go on. You’re beginning to sound like Deaton.”

            Scott’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Derek walking in on…”

            “Oh my god,” Stiles yelped, clamping a hand over his best friend’s mouth. “We’re not talking about this. _I’m_ not talking about it. _Derek_ shouldn’t be talking about it. As far as I’m concerned he’s never seen me with my dick in hand.”

            Scott smirked and pulled Stiles’ hand away. “That’s sounds a lot like actually talking about it. It’s true then?”

            “That Greenberg’s colorblind? Yep. I was shocked too.”

            “Dude, you know what I mean. It’s not a big deal. Clearly we just need a better system. I mean you walked in on me and Allison yesterday and-”

            “I’m going to stop you right there because we’re not talking about that either,” he grimaced, remembering how he’d returned from the game of capture the flag only to find Scott and Allison making out on Scott’s bunk. Allison had Scott pinned beneath her, her face flushed and her fishnet stockings pulled down below her knees. Things were still pretty awkward. The kind of faces his best friend makes when grinding against his girlfriend was not information Stiles had ever wanted to have. Yeah, no.

            “-and we’re still bros.”

            “So not only did Derek Hale walk in on me this morning, but now the entire camp also knows that my special Stiles Time was interrupted?”

            “Pretty much,” Scott nodded, biting into his hash brown. “Careful. That almost sounded like an acknowledgement.”

            “Shut up. I hate you both.”

            “It’s not that big of a deal. So he saw you naked. I doubt he’s off having an existential crisis over it or something.”

            “Scott, I was so close to actually moaning his name when I heard the door creak open. He saw me come. He witnessed my O face. If I ever walk in on you mid-orgasm, I probably won’t be able to look you in the eye for at least a week.”

            “Shit,” Scott winced. “Yeah, we need to do something.”

             “Sock on the door,” they grimly agreed.

            “So um,” Stiles began, picking at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Did you have any plans for later?”

            “Not really? I mean I was going to go swimming maybe but-,” Scott paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait, why?”

            “Oh, nothing. I just have a plan of sorts. The camp is still low on equipment and the dance is tonight.”

            Scott sighed. “You mean you have a plan that could get us in trouble.”

            “What’s life worth without taking a few risks, Scotty?” Stiles pleaded. “The camp needs us. It’s our duty or whatever.”

            “Uh huh. You mean _Derek_ needs us. Or more accurately, you.”

            Stiles blinked rapidly, his honey colored eyes widening in fake shock. “Ouch. Bro, you wound me. Have you ever considered I might be doing something out the good of my heart?”

            “Doubtful,” Scott laughed.

            “Okay, fine. Maybe I just don’t want things to be awkward between me and him. Maybe I just can’t resist a broody and handsome Hale in distress. Are you going to help a brother out or not?” Stiles asked, doing his best impression of puppy eyes.

            “Fine,” Scott huffed. “But you’ll be forever in my debt. I want at least two of your level 100 Pokémon and I get to choose which ones.”

            “But shouldn’t seeing your girlfriend be enough reward for doing a good deed?” Stiles whined.

            “Yeah, nice try. Deals a deal,” Scott smirked as they headed towards the canoes.

            Twenty minutes later found the two of them making their way across the lake again. The sun was warm against their shoulders and the silence of the outdoors was a nice change from the constant stream of voices at camp. After they docked near the Silver Creek camp, they headed to where they were supposed to meet Allison.

            "I can't believe we're doing this in broad daylight," Scott said as he tucked his hands in his pockets. "We're going to get caught."

            "No, we aren't. Not with Allison helping us," Stiles assured Scott, nudging him with his elbow.

            They walked a little bit further in silence before Stiles stopped and started laughing. When Scott looked at him questioningly, he said, "Dude, I have to take a piss."

            "I told you to go before we got in the canoe, bro! I _told_ you," Scott cackled, shaking his head his disbelief.

            "Shut up," he rolled his eyes. "Just go and I'll catch up to you guys."

            Scott groaned but carried along the dock, rolling his eyes as he could almost imagine Stiles ranting about the ‘Bro Code’ or something. When he finally reached Allison, she was pacing back and forth on the wobbling dock, her eyes fixed on the fish swimming in circles in front of her. She looked beautiful like that, golden light illuminating the curly locks that flowed over her shoulders, a smile curling her rosy pink lips.

            Without thinking, Scott snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

            “Hey beautiful,” he grinned, nuzzling against her neck as he breathed in the fresh scent of lilacs.

            Allison froze, her shoulders went tense and her painted nails dug into his hand. She tugging Scott’s hand off of her before pinning him to the wooden planks in one fluid motion.

            “Allison?” Scott squeaked, panting as he noticed the way Allison was straddling him. Both her hands were pressed against his throat in warning. “It’s me. Scott. I er, come in peace?”

            “Shit, oh my god,” she winced, letting go of the grip on his neck immediately. The tension in her shoulders disappeared but the tips of her ears turned pink. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, silly," she said, bowing her head so that it rested against his shoulder.

She could feel the heat radiating off him, the erratic beat of his heart slowly calming down. "Where's Stiles? I thought you guys needed to ask me something."

            “He's here. Somewhere. Hopefully he hasn’t fallen into the lake or stumbled across any poison ivy. But we were actually hoping we could ask for a favor,” he admitted, burying his face in her hair.

            “Oh. Does that mean you’re not just here to see me, then?” she asked, running her fingers over his torso teasingly. She grinned when Scott inhaled deeply and turned her face to press her lips against his. For a moment, she was lost in the languid kiss, the dizzying feel of him beneath her when she heard a whistle.

            “Scotty, I’m not sure now is the best time to explore a newfound exhibitionism kink. I get it, you’re both getting some. Now can we please hurry up so that _I_ can get some?”

            “Derek Hale is exchanging sexual favors for dance equipment?” Allison inquired as she untangled herself from Scott and lifted to her feet.

            “Only in my dreams,” Stiles sighed. “For now I guess I’ll just have to settle for brownie points.”

            Allison laughed as she helped Scott to his feet. “The equipment is in the shed. Have it back by tomorrow if you can. I wouldn’t want my parents bringing it up this weekend when I introduce Scott as my boyfriend.”

            “Your-,” Scott gaped before shutting his mouth again. “This weekend, right,” he beamed and clasped her hand with his.

            “I’ll help you guys carry it to the canoe and then you’re on your own. Derek should really invest in some new supplies. He drives a Camaro for god’s sake; I know he can afford it.”

            “Camp Little Paw appreciates your contribution,” Stiles smirked as he followed her into the shed.

            “Anything for Scott,” she shrugged, dumping a speaker into his arms. It wasn’t too long before they had what they needed to DJ the event. Allison frowned as she sized up the giant pile. “This is a little much for a boat to carry. I’d rather you two not drown or end up electrocuted,” she sighed. “We’re taking my car. I’ll drive.”

            “Good thinking,” Stiles nodded. “Never let this one go, Scott.”

            "I am calling this Hale Sibling Meeting to order," Laura said, banging her fist on the desk. Her eyes flitted from her brother to her sister. Derek sat in the chair opposite her with his arms crossed over his chest while Cora casually leaned against the edge of the desk. "So that we may attempt to make a decision together."

            Cora snorted loudly and rolled her eyes. "As if that's going to happen."

            "Which is why I said _attempt_ , little sister," Laura told her with a pointed look.

            "Can we skip the theatrics and get straight to the point?" Derek huffed in a bored tone.

            "Fine," Laura glared, shuffling things around on the desk distractedly.

            "What was the theme last year?" He inquired.

            "I'm not even going to point out that if you had been here last year or _any year really_ , you would already know the answer to that question and-"

            "Laura,” Derek warned.

            “Oh hey, if you’d even bothered to call-“

            “Fucking _stop_ ,” her brother snarled.

            Laura lifted her gaze away from the desk in surprise, still holding a stack of papers in her hands. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Derek raise his voice, especially at her. She could see Cora in her peripheral, tense and staring at their brother with a similar expression.

            "Derek," Laura started but he shook his head and stood up.

            "Both of you keep making it some sort of joke that I was never around," he said, clenching his hands into fists and looking at the floor. "I know I wasn't here, okay? I'm fucking aware of the fact that I spent more time working and avoiding my family than anything else - it's all I can think about. The last time I talked to Mom was New Year's Eve and I can't even remember the last time I talked to Dad."

            "I'm sorry," Laura said softly and when Derek looked at her, he saw tears welling in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill and paint her cheeks in long lines. "I'm so sorry, Der."

            He hadn't even realized he was crying until Cora's warm arms wrapped around his waist and she buried her face against his chest. When Laura appeared at his side, he lifted the arm he wasn't using to hold Cora tight against him to make room for her. She shuffled in and held him so tight he almost couldn't breathe.

            Several minutes into their hug, he got an idea.

            "Brothers’ Grimm," he said, voice rough from crying. "For the theme."

            "It's perfect," Cora and Laura said in unison.

            None of them mentioned the storybook their father had kept in his office, the one that their mother would slip from the shelf to read to them on days they were all stuck at home.

            Allison’s face was red and blotchy by the time they’d finished hauling the last of the gear from her trunk.

            “That was fun,” she panted. “Let’s not do it again, alright?”

            “Sure thing. Thanks again, Allison,” Stiles grinned as he dragged the speaker towards the camp. All this back and forth with the equipment was bound to result in either biceps or a pulled muscle by the end of summer.

            “I mean it, Stilinski,” she yelled as she slammed her trunk door shut. “I expect those back as soon as possible. My family’s awkward form of interrogation is nothing in comparison to what I have in my arsenal. I’m a good shot. Some might say perfect, even,” she smiled and the glints in her eyes were enough to make Scott swallow before she drove off.

            “Dude, I think she’s serious,” Scott whispered.

            “Your girlfriend isn’t going to kill you, Scotty. Possibly withhold sex-“

            Scott whimpered.

            “But there’s a good chance maim and torture isn’t on her agenda. Besides, we’ll have these back by no time just like before. Have I ever led you astray before?”

            “Yeah, actually. Like, all the time,” Scott muttered, shaking his head as Stiles swung the dining hall door open.

            Stiles gaped at him, huffing indignantly. “Bygones, dude, bygones. I pinkie swear,” he promised, holding out his hand as his best friend curled his pinkie around his. “Upon the sacred oath of the pinkie, I promise to help you return this stuff on time.” They shook on it and as dumb as it sounds, Stiles could tell that Scott felt a bit relieved.

            “Stiles? Scott?” Laura called, striding towards them with a concerned expression. The way her eyebrows were raised and the scathing looks they received implied she already suspected they were guilty of something.

            “Relax, dude. Scotty and I have saved the day once again. We come bearing gifts,” he said, gesturing to the pile of DJ equipment.

            “Where did you get all of that stuff?” Derek inquired from behind his sister. “ _Stiles_?”

            “Whoa, hey, is that a tone of suspicion that I detect?” he gasped. “It almost sounds as if you don’t trust us, McBroody. Even after all the trouble we went through to get this stuff? You Hales sure know how to make a guy feel appreciated.”

            Scott rolled his eyes and muffled his laughter as he watched Stiles’ ridiculous display.

            “Laura, Scott, can you give us a moment?” Derek asked. Laura and Scott nodded in unison. Scott shuffled to the other side of the room while Laura followed behind him, still lingering as she eyed them in suspicion.                                                    

            “Theft? Really?”

            “We didn’t steal anything,” the teen pouted. “Just temporarily misappropriated. We’ll give it back after the dance.”

            “Stiles, the Argents are going to kill us-“

            “Oh man, cool it with the theatrics. The Argents aren’t going to find out. We borrow from them pretty much every year,” Stiles smirked, cupping Derek’s face in his hands as he cooed. “Look at you, all concerned. I have it under control, Hale.”

            Derek glared and smacked his hands away, his ears turning bright pink as Stiles’ hands dropped to his side.  “You’d better.”

            “Stiles, Derek, you’ll set up the equipment while Scott and I decorate this place. It could use a little pizzazz,” Laura instructed, using her index finger to wipe off a sliver of dust from one of the chairs they’d moved to the dining area for the occasion.

            “Yes ma’am,” Stiles nodded, ducking around Derek as he hauled one of the speakers towards the stage.

            “Did he really just call me ma’am? I’m only four years older than him,” Laura huffed.

            “Pouting isn’t a good look for you,” Derek told her as he stepped around her to get to the other speaker. He grasped the sides and started dragging it to the stage. He jerked his head up upon hearing a high pitched noise, only to see Stiles flail, foot getting caught on cord before dropping a full box of cables. “Careful or you’ll be paying Silver Creek to replace the equipment you _stole_ and then _broke_.”

            “Borrowed, dude. You’re beginning to sound like Scott,” Stiles blushed, bending over to collect the cables. He laughed when Derek scrunched his nose.

             “Less flirting boys, more helping,” Laura chided, rolling her eyes as Derek kneeled to help Stiles with the cords.

            “We’re not-I wasn’t-I’m not,” Derek twitched, gesturing between them. He chuckled nervously, flush spreading further down his chest as Laura narrowed her eyes at them.

            “Right,” Laura nodded in mock seriousness. “I’m sure. It’d be great if you two kept the pining to a minimum long enough to get something done. Good luck.” With that, she turned sharply on her heel and headed towards Scott.

             “Hey, Derek, are you alright? You look like you’re burning up a bit,” Stiles said, craning his head to the side as his eyes narrowed on Derek’s flushed face. Stiles outstretched his palm to check his temperature and the older man immediately clamped a hand around his wrist.

            “I don’t have a fever, Stiles” 

            “Alright, touchy. I’m just saying, I’ve seen tomatoes with less color,” Stiles shrugged as Derek released his grip.

            “Uh, about earlier-“

            “Nuh uh. We’re not going there, Hale. Not another word,” he gulped, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stubbornly refused to meet Derek’s gaze. He moved away from him and started unpacking the box of cables. For a moment, Stiles thought Derek was going to drop the subject (apparently just wishful thinking on his part). Instead, Derek followed him and started fiddling with one of the flaps on the box.

            “I just wanted to, uh… y’know… apologize. I shouldn’t have just…” Derek sighed, his nose scrunching in frustration, “I mean, I was a teenager once. And I should have knocked first, instead of just barging in”

            “Oh dear god,” Stiles muttered, contemplating bashing his head in against the wall if it meant ending the conversation. He hadn’t been this uncomfortable since his dad sat him down to discuss the birds and the bees.

            Derek opened his mouth to continue but clamped it shut again as Stiles’ mouth thinned to a hard line, his amber colored eyes pleading Derek to drop the topic.

            He sighed in defeat and turned so that his back faced Stiles. They worked in silence for half an hour when Derek decided to try again.

            “You know,” Derek coughed as he sifted through the cords. “It’s not that uncommon. I’ve been, uh, interrupted before too.”

            “Is this your idea of small talk? If so, it could really use some work.”

            “I just want to fix this. _Us._ Maybe if you felt like we’re even?” Derek suggested.

            Stiles gaped, trying to dislodge the image of walking in on Derek with his hand wrapped around his cock. “Or we could just forget about this.”

            “Okay.” Derek narrowed his eyes and stood up straight like he was accepting some unspoken challenge from Stiles. “When I was eleven, my parents left me home alone for the first time to take Cora and Laura to the dentist. And the first thing I did was steal a bottle of lotion from the bathroom and strip down naked.”

            “Oh no,” Stiles whispered, cringing like he knew what was coming.

            “Turns out my dad forgot to get gas before he came home the night before. I was so into what I was, uh, doing that I didn’t hear them come back inside,” Derek told him, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. His cheeks were flushed, the tips of his ears turning redder by the second.

 Stiles laughed, raising his hands in defeat. “If I say I forgive you, will you please stop?”

            “Maybe,” Derek grinned sheepishly, ducking his head.

            “Awesome, now help me set up the rest of the lights. Camp Silver Creek will be here in about two hours.”

            Derek had left Laura, Cora, Stiles, and Scott to decorate while he went to do a craft session with some of the younger campers. After an hour of dealing with little girls sticking unicorn stickers on his arms, constant attempts to put tiaras on him and the outbreak of two fights over glitter, Derek sent them back to their cabins and went back to his to take a quick shower.

            He was contemplating what would be an acceptable costume and how he would go about getting what he would need when he walked into his room. On his bed, there was a wolf mask cut out of paper and what looked like one of the granny nightgowns from a play a few years back. He rolled his eyes and laughed because he knew it had to have been Cora who picked it out but also because it was exactly the kind of costume he would have chosen for himself.

            He’d just finished pulling the ridiculous nightgown over his head when he heard a knock on the door.

            “Hey Der, you ready? The kids from Silver Creek are here and our campers are already in the dining room,” Laura called from the other side of the door.

            Derek grunted and yanked the gown down so that it reached just past his ankles. “I’ll be right there,” he replied with a sigh.

When he opened the door Laura’s eyes widened and she muffled her giggles with her hand.

            “What?” Derek demanded.

            “Nothing, nothing,” she giggled as he closed the door behind himself. “Just that my brother is a total dork. You and Stiles are practically meant for each other.”

            “I have no idea what you mean,” he coughed, feigning innocence.

            “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t, grandma,” Laura said as she eyed his costume with fond amusement. “Now hurry up before the party starts without us.”

            The sun had started to set when Stiles finally left his cabin. As he made his way to the dining hall, a wind rushed through that made him shiver and tug the red hood up over his head. When he reached the door, he could already feel the low thump of music and the hum of voices from inside. Stiles’ fingers curled around the edge of his hoodie, tugging so that it sat just right, and then he straightened his back and reached for the door.

            Inside, the campers lined the walls and dotted the center where they had cleared the floor for dancing. From across the room, Stiles could see Derek frowning at the music equipment like it had personally offended him. He quickly crossed the room, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie up as he went. Stiles placed a gentle hand on Derek’s shoulder and nudged him to the side. .

            “Let me, dude,” He said, biting his lip to hide his grin. His fingers worked quick over the soundboard, pressing several buttons and adjusting the sliders until he was pleased with the volume. “I was born to do this, man. Just call me…..” He hadn’t noticed what Derek was wearing until that moment, too busy enjoying the look of annoyed confusion on his face. His mouth fell open, eyes widening in surprise. “What in the hell are you supposed to be?”

            Derek looked down at himself, somehow frowning even harder at the long nightgown adorning his body. He tugged at the fabric, sighing heavily. “I’m a wolf pretending to be a grandmother. Cora picked it out,” he explained.

            “Where’s your wolf mask?” Stiles asked, eyes shining with excitement. He bounced on the soles of his shoes, hands flapping in some kind of gesture Derek couldn’t decipher. “You have one, right?”

            Before Derek could reply, Cora was approaching them.

“Oh, a couple’s costume. How cute. By which I mean nauseating,” Cora smirked as she reached past them and dug her hand in the chip bowl that was resting on the amp beside Derek.

            Stiles blushed and glanced back and forth between Derek and himself. “One of us is going to have to change,” he blurted.

            Cora snorted and grabbed another handful of chips. She was dressed in a generic witch costume; her lips painted red and her black robe reaching just past her knees. “Oh relax, Stilinski. You make it sound like you both showed up to prom wearing the same dress.”

            Stiles narrowed his eyes at her and pulled the chip bowl out of reach. “Whatever you say…evil queen? Maleficent?”

            “Whichever you prefer. This was my Halloween costume a few years ago. I’m recycling,” she shrugged. .

            “Speaking of which, Brothers Grimm? Really, Derek?” Stiles snickered, taking in the red punch, the fake spider webs dangling from the ceiling and the creepy fairy tale inspired cupcakes. “You do realize Halloween was in October, right?”

            “Yes, Stiles, I know,” Derek grunted, rolling his eyes. “The last time I was here, the theme was literally ‘Valentine’s Day in July’.”

            “There were papier-mâché hearts and everything,” Cora told him, nodding her head with an expression that said ‘can you believe that?’ She suddenly started laughing and pointed at Derek. “Oh my god, wait a second, didn’t _you_ make all of the papier-mâché hearts?”

            At that moment, Derek looked like he wished the ground beneath his feet would open up and swallow him whole. His face was twisted up in a grimace and his shoulders were hunched under the fabric of his granny costume.

            “Yes,” he forced out like it physically hurt him to admit to it. “Do you need something or can you leave me alone now?”

            “Sure, I’ll leave you alone,” Cora grinned. “With Stiles.” She waved over her shoulder at them as she headed for the dance floor. It only took a couple of seconds for Isaac to attach himself to her, arms sliding around her waist as they smiled at each other.

            “How long did it take you to make these papier-mâché hearts? Did you spend hours, elbow deep in paper, water, and glue? Did you hang them up yourself?” Stiles asked, leaning into Derek’s space as he laughed. His eyes were bright with something that Derek couldn’t name, something that made him shiver and take a step back.

            “Shut up and play the music, Stiles,” Derek huffed out, crossing his arms and turning away. He turned back almost immediately. “At least one of us was festive enough to dress for the occasion.”

            Stiles made a noise of indignation as he glanced down at his hoodie. “This is my costume. Not all of us can pull-off a dress the way you can.”

            “So you’re who then, Little Red?”

            “ _DJ_ Red,” Stiles corrected smugly, white teeth glinting in the flashing lights.

            Derek rolled his eyes and tugged his [wolf mask](http://harseik.deviantart.com/art/Werewolf-Mask-184128714) out of the pocket in his costume.

            “Well _Red_ , you better watch out. I hear there’s a wolf roaming around, looking for someone to eat right up,” he said before he slipped it over his face, letting the elastic snap against the back of his head. With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

            The music drowned out the noise of the conversations happening around the room. Stiles watched as Laura led Lydia out onto the dance floor. Lydia was dressed as Ariel, notably not a character from Grimm tales but Stiles knew better than to think she cared. Laura’s hand rested on the small of her back and swayed slowly, bodies flush together when Stiles chose a slower song. He’d already promised Scott he’d slip the occasional ballad. He was watching Cora glare at Isaac for accidentally stepping on her toes when he noticed Scott weaving his way through the other dancers, making his way towards the DJ booth.

            “We’re not taking any requests tonight,” Stiles said seriously when Scott approached him.

            His friend smirked for a moment and then pouted in mock disappointment. “Not even Freebird? The power’s clearly gotten to your head, man.”

            Stiles shrugged and grinned back. “No but really, what do you need? I’ll play anything you want - just not YMCA or the Cha Cha slide. That’s where I draw the line.”

            “Good to know you still have integrity, dude, but I don’t have any requests, Stiles. Allison told me the kids from the other camp are playing a game of spin the bottle after the dance. You in?”

            “No,” Derek sneered and the two teens turned around to face him in surprise. His arms were folded over his chest, his scowl prominent as Scott and Stiles glanced at each other in confusion.

            “Why not?” Scott prodded.

            “He can’t,” Derek insisted, his whole body stiff as he refused to meet Stiles’ annoyed gaze. “He’s helping me clean up afterwards.”

            “I don’t recall volunteering my services. Can’t you just get someone else to do it? This might be my only opportunity to-” Stiles pleaded, trailing off when Derek gave him a sharp look.

            “You skipped out on all your afternoon duties today. This is your way to make it up to me.”

            “Are you actively trying to cockblock me?” Stiles groaned, glaring while Derek’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. He still didn’t relent. “Because you’re doing a great job.”

            “I think you’re doing a fine enough effort of that on your own, what with your charming personality and your-,” Derek began when Stiles interrupted him.

            “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m a freaking delight-.” Stiles retorted and Derek raised his eyebrows in skepticism.

            Scott shot him a sympathetic look and Stiles frowned and switched the track to Lily Allen’s “Fuck You,” before having to change tracks after receiving a stern look from Laura. He’d probably get a lecture on choosing more family appropriate music later, if he didn’t die of boredom while cleaning up with Derek. Seriously, the Hales were ruining his life.

            “Well, there’s your answer,” he sulked as Scott patted him on the shoulder. “Have fun getting kissed. I’ll be here, you know, sweeping. Because Derek Hale is a total _funsuck_.”

            After that, it was kind of hard for Stiles not to notice that most of his friends were missing from the dance floor. He noticed Cora lingering for a while, but then Isaac disappeared and she followed. As the door shut behind her, Stiles’ lips parted with a sigh. He looked back to the list of songs on his computer screen, scrolled through them, and queued up enough songs to give him time to grab something to drink and maybe find someone to dance with.

            Stiles tugged at the fabric of his hoodie until the hood was over his head and headed toward the refreshments table. Laura was lurking behind the table now, arms crossed over her chest as she glared out at the crowd of campers.

            “I have come for libations,” Stiles announced, “and I will not leave until I have them.”

            Laura quirked an eyebrow at him but grabbed the ladle and started filling a plastic cup. “Here you go,” she said as she handed it to him.

            “Thanks,” Stiles grinned before taking a sip. He wiped the punch residue from his top lip before he asked, “Why are you all Fluffy the three-headed dog over the refreshments?”

            Laura’s shoulders dropped as she groaned. “I caught Jackson trying to spike the punch and Derek put me on drink-watching duty. He’s the biggest funsucker that ever fun sucked.”

            “I literally just said that!” Stiles crowed, head tipping back as he laughed. “Where did he disappear to anyway?”

            “He’s probably lurking around here somewhere,” Laura replied as she squinted her eyes at him. “He does it a lot, really. Our mom used to make him take our younger cousins out for ice cream every time she caught him.”

            “That is adorable, oh my god,” said Stiles. He emptied his cup and waved it at Laura until she grabbed it. He rocked back and forth on his heels as she refilled it. “The lurking is also unbelievably adorable.”

            “I think you are the only person who has ever thought that about my brother,” Laura told him. “I know him and I think it’s creepy and weird.”

            Hoping to hide the sudden heat in his cheeks, Stiles ducked his head and focused on the array of sweets on the table. He gripped his cup in one hand and the fingers of the other twisted in the hem of his shirt. Okay, so, maybe he had thought he’d been less conspicuous about it, even if he’d been caught making jokes about Derek’s obvious attractiveness by just about everyone at camp. He hadn’t exactly realized until now how unconvincing he’d been at pretending he didn’t feel things for Derek.

            “Oh come on, don’t be embarrassed, Stilinski. I’m pretty sure he thinks your inability to sit still for longer than five seconds is ‘ridiculously endearing’,” said Laura with a shrug. “Just so you know.” She grabbed a cookie and took a bite, looking down at him expectantly as she chewed.

            Stiles could only stare at her in confusion until the song faded into silence. He waved over his shoulder as he headed onto the dance floor, dropping his cup into the trashcan on the way.

            The music changed just as Derek returned from doing his rounds and making sure none of the campers were up to any shenanigans like the move Jackson had tried to pull. Something mellower rang out from the speakers as his eyes flitted over to where Stiles had been standing when Derek had left. When Derek realized that he couldn’t see Stiles’ silhouetted frame, he tried not to feel disappointed as he focused on the crowded dance floor. He saw that Cora had returned and was dancing with Isaac, their foreheads touching as they moved in slow circles, and couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course his little sister would choose to fall for the second biggest smartass at camp.

            It was just as he was turning around, intent on keeping Laura company as she guarded the refreshment table, that he spotted Stiles. He was pretty sure the girl who had her arms slung around his neck was named Heather and was just a little older than Cora. Derek couldn’t look away as Heather’s head tilted back and she laughed at something Stiles was saying, couldn’t look away until Stiles’ eyes were meeting his from across the room. He turned away quickly, a hand raising to tug angrily at his hair as he walked toward his sister.

            “I swear to god if I have to listen to Kate complain one more time,” Laura grunted as she glared at Kate who was dressed as Meg from _Hercules_. “The theme was Brothers Grimm, _not_ Disney. It’s like we were the only children who grew up listening to fairy tales. Did I tell you she said this venue didn’t suit the ‘needs’ of her campers? It’s bad enough that I caught her trying to convince the Lahey’s to sign up for her camp next year instead, but to suggest we’re not doing a good enough job at _entertaining_? I can’t take it anymore, Der.”

            Derek nodded numbly, only half paying attention as his sister huffed loudly beside him.

            “Justin Timberlake makes a guest appearance at one of their dances and suddenly it’s like-,” Laura paused, her lips pursing as she followed Derek’s gaze to where it was focused on Stiles and Heather. “Something wrong, bro?”

            He let out a small, pained nose, unable to drag his gaze away from where Stiles and Heather were dancing. He regretted it the instant he looked back at Laura and saw the knowing look on her face.

            “No,” he shrugged as he straightened a stack of folded napkins.  “You can leave early if you want.”

            Laura let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. I was pouring punch for the kids when Kate started telling me how at her camp they’re all about _quality_. I offered her a cup and she muttered something about refusing to drink punch that wasn’t locally sourced. What the hell does that even mean?”

            Derek snorted and took a sip of his own cup of punch. As much as Kate annoyed him, there was a certain satisfaction that came from watching his sister get all riled up.

            “You would not understand the amount of self-restraint it took not to spit in her food, let alone poison it, before giving it to her.”

            “Oh trust me, I understand,” he told her as he moved to stack the paper cups. “Now go, please, before you start plotting the demise of any more of our guests.”

            Laura bit her lip, her hesitance all too apparent as she stalled. “You sure? If you want, I can help clean up the mess.”

            “I’m fine, Laur. Just feeling kind of stupid is all. Go and enjoy the rest of the party.”

            She looked like she wanted to say more but chose not to. Instead, Laura placed a quick kiss on his cheek and ambled out onto the dance floor. Derek watched both of his sisters for a moment before he started ladling punch into plastic cups with a sigh.

            Two hours passed by slowly, consisting of thwarting another attempt at spiking the punch, scolding two campers (one of them being his youngest sister) for making out in the bathroom, and handing out more punch than Derek had previously believed existed in the world. After herding Cora and Isaac back onto the dance floor where he could keep an eye on them, Derek spent the rest of the evening avoiding a certain camp counselor who was alternating between dancing and DJing with ease. Finally, the last of the campers that hadn’t left yet were heading out, exhausted from hours spent dancing. The only ones who remained were Derek, his sisters and Stiles. The latter was packing away the equipment he had stolen from Silver Creek.

            Cora and Laura lingered in the doorway of the kitchen as Derek stored the last of the party food in the refrigerator.

            “Do you need something?” Derek asked, shutting and leaning against the refrigerator door. “Or are you just going to follow me around and watch as I do the cleaning?”

            Both of his sisters looked over their shoulders at Stiles, who was wrapping cables into tight circles, and then back at him.

            “We can stay and help,” Laura offered.

            “We can’t,” Cora argued, glaring at her sister. “And by that I mean I don’t want to.”

            “We can and we will,” Laura returned the glare.

            “Please leave,” Derek begged before Cora could respond. “I already gave Laura my blessing to go and Cora, I don’t need your help either. I’m doing just fine,” he shrugged, gesturing to Stiles and himself. He could feel the glare Stiles was giving him without having to turn his head, Laura gave Derek a dubious look but he ushered them out of the kitchen and toward the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Goodnight.”

            After they left, Derek forced himself to focus on cleaning up. Determined to get back to his cabin as fast as possible, he quickly put away the rest of the food and decorations and then swept the dining hall floor.

            Stiles gave him a sharp look after Cora and Laura had put some distance between them and the dining hall.

            “Really?” Stiles hissed, placing a hand on his hip. “You didn’t seriously just turn down free help, did you? Because I thought that was the whole point of me being here; you know, you needing a helping hand and all.”

            Derek winced at that. “Maybe I just wanted your company.”

            “Oh ha ha, very funny, Mr. Wolf. Some of us having better things to do with our time besides cracking jokes with s-,” Stiles paused, blushing as he caught himself. “ _Surly_ camp counselors.”

            He’d obviously meant the say something else, but Derek didn’t ask what. Instead, he shoved a broom at Stiles and let them fall into easy silence again, continuing at a quick pace as they cleaned up the remainder of the mess.

            “Do you need help with the tables?” Stiles’ voice filled the silence suddenly, startling Derek and causing him to drop the broom. It made a loud clanking noise as it hit the floor but neither of them looked at it. They were looking at one another with wide eyes. “Sorry,” Stiles squeaked, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was still here.”

            “I did. I just wasn’t expecting you to talk to me,” Derek told him. He bent over and picked the broom up. Stiles was looking over his shoulder, face flushed red. Derek cleared his throat and scratched at his jaw. “Thought you were still upset about missing out on spin the bottle.”

            “Yeah, well,” he shrugged, unzipping his hoodie before tossing it onto a pile of stacked chairs. “Maybe I don’t mind the company too much, either. Just note that if I leave this camp as virginal as I was when I got here, I’m holding you personally accountable, Hale.”

            Derek nodded and helped lift the table when Stiles started to pull from his side. “Right. Are you flirting with me or threatening me?”

            “ _Jesus_ , warn a guy…?” Stiles squawked and nearly dropped the table on his foot. “I’m beginning to think they’re synonymous when it comes to you,” he muttered under his breath, steadily avoiding Derek’s gaze they set down the table.

            Derek grinned, enjoying the sheepish look on Stiles’ face as they fell quiet again. Together, they pulled the long tables and benches into the now clean and empty dining hall. Derek tried to ignore the way they moved almost completely in sync, dipping to grab the edges of the table and standing to carry the weight into open part of the dining hall at the same time. It was kind of difficult with Stiles’ limbs moving so fluidly and his bottom lip drawn between his teeth as he concentrated.

            It was Stiles again who interrupted the silence between them.  He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he asked, “Not a fan of dancing?”

            “Uh, it’s more along the lines of ‘not a fan of crowds of people and/or children’,” Derek replied, reaching down to grab one end of the next table.

            “So, what you’re saying is that you like to dance, just not around other people?” Stiles said, face splitting with a grin as he grabbed the other end of the table. “I’m imagining a lot of nights spent alone, dancing in your underwear.”

            “So, basically, you’re imagining me in my underwear?” Derek countered, despite the heat rushing to his face.

            “Maybe,” Stiles smirked, helping Derek set the table down a few feet away from the last one. “Okay, vividly. I just can’t pass up on that kind of imagery, dude. Can’t say I’m sorry.”

            “Alright. So what kind of guy am I then? Boxers or briefs?”

            Stiles paused, tapping his fingers against his chin as his gaze raked slowly over Derek’s body. He shivered, twitching in his jeans at the way Stiles looked at him like he really could see through the layers of fabric.

            “Lace,” Stiles grinned, setting the table down in front of him. “Definitely lace.”

            “I don’t think I have the thighs to pull those off,” Derek said, shaking his head as he tried to ignore the way Stiles was watching him hungrily. He shouldn’t be having a conversation about what he looks like in panties with one of his employees, let alone an employee who wasn’t single. He suddenly recalled Heather, Stiles’ long fingers on her hips. His mouth dropped into a frown as he thought of the way they had swayed together, like they were familiar with one another’s bodies.

            “Nonsense,” Stiles said, snorting in derision as he gestured to Derek’s stomach. “You could probably pull off a potato sack. But really, you’d look best with your clothes on my bedroom floor,” he continued, oblivious to Derek’s inner turmoil.

            Derek turned around and headed back for the last table. He avoided looking at Stiles, even when he could hear his footsteps following behind.

            “What would your girlfriend think about that?” Derek asked as he lifted his end of the table.

            “Girlfriend?” Stiles sounded confused as he grabbed the opposite end. They started to move and Derek still hadn’t looked up at him when Stiles continued, “I don’t have a girlfriend, dude. Or a boyfriend. Or a significant other of any kind.”

            “What about the girl you were dancing with earlier?” Derek asked, as they pushed the table into place.

            “Wha-? Heather?” Stiles choked out.

            “Yeah, you two seemed awfully cozy on the dance floor,” Derek answered, failing at keeping his voice nonchalant.

            “That might have something to do with the fact that we’ve been friends since kindergarten,” Stiles pointed out with a laugh. Derek looked up then, to find a smirk on his lips. “Did you think we were dating? Is that why you spent all night pouting?”

            “I was not pouting,” Derek hissed. “Why would I pout?”

            “Because you were jealous,” Stiles said, looking at Derek with his big, amber eyes flickering mischievously. He was suddenly a lot closer than before, so close that Derek could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Because you wanted to be the one dancing with me, didn’t you?” Stiles’ voice was almost a whisper as he took a small step towards Derek.

            “I-,” Derek started, fully prepared to trust his first instinct and deny, deny, deny. But then Stiles’ lips turned up into a soft smile and Derek couldn’t find it in him to bother. He tilted his head to the left and angled it slightly down, because Stiles was a little shorter than him, and said, “Yeah, I did.”

            Stiles’ lips parted for Derek’s, soft and plush. His tongue darted out and against Derek’s bottom lip as his hands curled into fists with the sides of Derek’s costume caught in them. For a long moment, all Derek could hear was his own heartbeat and the soft sound of Stiles’ breathing through his nose as they kissed. And then a sound released itself from his throat, low and slightly pained, and his teeth caught on Stiles’ lip as he pulled away. Stiles’ chased after him, catching his mouth in a quick press of lips, before pulling back to rest his forehead against Derek’s.

            “That was-,” He began, trailing off when his smile became too big. He started to speak again but was interrupted by the door of the dining hall swinging open with a loud whining noise.

            They both turned to look as Scott stumbled in with mussed hair and a huge grin.

            “Dude, you’ll never guess what just happened,” Scott said, failing to notice the lack of space between the counselors.

            Derek cleared his throat and stepped away from Stiles. “I can take care of the rest of the clean-up,” he said, scratching at his scruff.

            “Are you sure?” Stiles asked. “I’m sure whatever Scott has to tell me can wait until we’re finished here.”

            “Duuuuuuuude,” Scott whined, leaning against the wall with his hands on his chest like he had been fatally wounded by Stiles’ words. Stiles shot him a look that made his mouth close around the rest of his protest.

            “I’m sure,” Derek assured him. “Thanks for your help, Stiles. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

            “Wait, Derek,” he sighed, catching Derek’s hand in his. “That was-”

            “A mistake,” Derek finished, avoiding his gaze.

            Stiles’ mouth fell open. He stood there for a moment in shock, releasing Derek’s hand as he clenched his into fists. “Don’t be an idiot, Derek. Is this about my age again? Look, we’re both consenting adults here.”

            He had a point, but Derek still felt wrong about it. “You’re still a kid.”

            “Not in the eyes of the law,” Stiles glared when he felt Scott tugged on his arm.

            “Come on, dude. Its past curfew. We got to be heading back now.”

            He nodded and sighed. “Yeah, coming,” he told Scott before leaning in closer to whisper in Derek’s ear. “You can’t run from your feelings, asshole.”

He turned away and headed for the row of benches he needed to position.

            “Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek sighed as he turned away and headed for the row of benches he needed to position.

            “Whatever, Hale,” Stiles called back before following Scott from the dining hall.

            He could hear them talking as they walked away but couldn’t quite make out their words. He chose to ignore it as he continued cleaning up. What he couldn’t ignore was the taste of Stiles’ lingering on his lips and the way he could still feel Stiles’ hands on his sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are sosososososososo sorry for the long wait! I (Tes) just graduated from university and my last semester was so fucking hectic that I hardly had time to breathe and it was Amber's first semester at university so really, we were both busy. We wrote when we could but we only recently finished up the chapter. We promise that there won't be such a long wait between this chapter and the next. Thanks so much for reading and being patient with us!


	6. Chapter Six

          Stiles squinted as light filtered in through the windows of the dining hall. His shoulders sagged and his hands throbbed where they were clenched tightly around the straps of his bag, but the little extra weight would be worth it if it meant packing everything he’d need for the trip.

          “I’m pretty sure Laura told us to pack light,” Scott frowned, staring down at Stiles’ bag, the back of it dragging against the floor. “You know that we’re crossing the lake on canoes, right?”

          Stiles made an indignant noise and pulled his bag up, holding it against his chest and murmured something about being prepared. He’d spent all year being excited about this trip and he wanted it to be perfect. Also, he was a huge fan of layers so that often meant packing at least twice as much as Scott, who probably was only bringing a pair of jeans and a hoodie with him on their camping trip.

          Scott snickered at that and shook his head. “Prepared for what, exactly? A year on a deserted island?”

          “Anything could happen out there.”

          Scott scoffed at that. “It’s a two day trip, what could go wrong? Besides, we’ll have adults with us making sure nothing bad happens.”

          Stiles groaned at him and the weight of lifting his bag onto the pile where everyone else had tossed their luggage. Stiles smiled in relief when his friend reached out a hand to help him.

          “We have Derek,” Stiles corrected, trying not to grimace. “Who’s both inexperienced and emotionally constipated. Not exactly reassuring.” Usually Laura or Talia would be coming with them but this year Laura was staying back to watch the younger children, which meant Derek and Cora were the only Hales that’d be joining them.

          Scott chuckled but didn’t deny it as his lips curled into a knowing smirk and bit his lip to suppress his laughter. “He’ll be fine. You guys are going to be fine. For all you’ve complained about him lately, don’t think I didn’t notice you packing a few condoms in your bag at the last minute.”

          Instead of replying, Stiles turned his face away, a flush colouring his cheeks as repeated under his breath what he’d said earlier about being prepared. Scott rolled his eyes and clapped him on the back before giving Stiles’ bag another weary glance.

          “Hey, what’s in there, anyway? A dead body?” Scott made a face like he was only partly joking.

          “Bricks, mostly. A whole ton,” Stiles shrugged, ducking out of the way when Scott leaped forward to smack him on the shoulder.

          “Clearly. If your plan is to sink us, you may yet succeed. If our stuff gets wet, I call the backup sleeping bag.”

          Scott was exaggerating, obviously. Those canoes were built sturdy enough to hold three people if it had to. It was just going to be two of them in that canoe so it’d be able to handle the weight of bag if it had to. Still, Stiles couldn’t help the nagging feeling that he’d forgotten something.

          “You okay, dude? You’ve seemed a bit off since yesterday.”

          “Derek kissed me,” Stiles blurted, flinching when he realized what he’d said. He’d been complaining that Derek was being a jerk but he hadn’t mentioned the kiss yet, not while still processing. Scott gaped at him for a moment before quickly recovering.

          “Oh,” he frowned, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Well that’s…good, right?”

          “Yes,” Stiles groaned miserably and folded his arms over his chest to distract himself from fidgeting with the string of his hoodie. “No.”

          “Was he a bad kisser?” Scott asked, clearly trying to figure out why his friend getting the guy he’d been mooning over all summer was a bad thing.

          “No. It was great. Better than, you know,” he said, gesturing between them. He flushed as he remembered his first kiss. “No offense.”

          “None taken. So what’s the problem then?”

          Stiles sighed loudly. “He shut me out again. Gave me that whole ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ spiel. Like I said, emotionally constipated.”

          “You guys will figure it out,” he reassured him before glancing towards the pile of luggage. Everyone else was starting to join them in the dining hall. “Is that everything? We’re supposed to be leaving in a few minutes.”

          Stiles began to hyperventilate as he realized what he’d forgotten in their cabin. He stared at the pile numbly, his chest throbbing and his hands dampening.

          “Pillow?” Scott guessed, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He nodded in reply.

          “Run.”

 

 

          Laura’s laughter was loud and overly amused as it escaped her. She looked away from the little girl whose cheek she was painting on for just a moment.

          “Are you honestly trying to bribe me, Derek?” She quipped, hand holding the little girl’s dark, cloud-like hair away from her face. She laughed again when he glared at her and turned her attention back to the little girl. “Don’t look at me like that. Cora has been on this trip more times than I can count. She’ll help you out.”

          “That isn’t as reassuring as you seem to think. Especially not when over half of the counselor’s you’re sending with me are under 20 and act younger than that,” Derek grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

          “Well I’m not leaving you here with the young campers for four days straight,” Laura told him. “Now, you need to get over it and go get your stuff ready.”

          “Get over what?” Derek asked, obviously defensive. “There’s nothing to get over.”

          Laura gave him her patented you-can’t-fool-me look but didn’t respond. Derek made an annoyed sound at his sister and walked away from where she and all of the young campers had gathered.

          He made quick work of putting his pack together, grabbed his sleeping bag, first aid kit, and anything else he thought he'd need for the trip. When he finally left his cabin, he stopped just outside and tilted his head up to look at the sky. It had grown dark while he was inside, gray clouds rolling through with a rumbling sound.

          Derek cursed under his breath but shouldered his pack and headed toward where the campers were supposed to be waiting.

          Except they weren’t there. Confused, Derek turned in a circle, fingers clutching the straps of his bag. He was considering giving up and going back to his cabin when he heard feet pounding against the packed dirt trail. He turned back toward camp just in time to see Stiles sprinting with a balled up pillow between his hands.

          “Wh-” Stiles stopped, bending over in an attempt to catch his breath. A moment later, he tilted his head up and looked at Derek questioningly. “Where did everyone go?”

          “That’s what I was wondering,” Derek told him.

          They both looked toward the path the campers took every year to get to the camping grounds.

          “I was only gone for like, ten minutes,” Stiles groaned, tugging at his hair as he squinted at the lake. “Do you think we could catch up?”

          “Not unless you’re interested in running,” Derek retorted, casting a sideways glance at the teen who was still heaving in sharp gasps.

          “I’ll have you know I could run a marathon right now,” Stiles glowered as he clutched at his knees.

          “I’m sure you could,” Derek conceded, raising his hands. “But let’s not take any chances.”

          With a calculating glare, Stiles tilted his head and asked, “What do you suggest we do then?”

          Derek pursed his lips, adjusting the straps of his bag on his shoulders as his mind turned over ideas. Finally, he said, “I guess we could take one of the canoes. We might be able to catch up then.”

          “Derek the optimist,” Stiles snorted in derision. “Fraid not, big guy. Unless there’s another Derek stashed somewhere around here.”

          Derek ignored the way Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively in favor of tossing Stiles a paddle.

          "I think you can handle it," Derek insisted. "It’s really not that far."

 

 

          Laura was painting her fourth face since Derek had stomped away like the petulant child he had always been. The kid, who was probably around seven or eight, was blabbering about her new puppy and all the tricks she and her mommies were teaching it. Laura listened with a soft smile on her lips and made the appropriate sounds when prompted by the small girl.

          She had always loved camp. Her love for the outdoors had been inherited from her mother, who had spent as much time as possible in the trees that outlined their home. But that was only part of the reason she loved it. The other part was getting to know all of the kids who came through. Some of them from out of town, even out of state. When she had been younger, it had been about making friends. As she got older, she realized that she really just loved kids and being around them.

          She finished up the glittering dragon she had painted and shooed the girl away. The next kid plopped down in front of her and she grinned at him.

          "Hi, Liam," Laura said. "Did you decide what you wanted?"

          The little boy hesitated, big blue eyes troubled as he looked at her. When he spoke, he sounded upset. "I wanted to get a unicorn but Garrett said boys aren't supposed to like unicorns."

          "You know my brother, Derek?" Laura asked him, leaning forward like she was sharing a secret. When the little boy nodded, she whispered, "He loves unicorns."

          "Really?" Liam questioned, sounding hopeful.

          "Really," Laura said as seriously as she could manage.

          "Okay, I want a big unicorn right here," he told her, poking his left cheek.

          Laura let him pick out the colours and started to paint. Liam started talking about his best friend, Mason and how he wished he had been able to come to camp too. She was just finishing up when she heard a throat clear behind her.

          "How do you think Derek would feel if he knew you were telling his secrets like that?" Lydia's melodic voice inquired from behind her.

          Laura whipped around to see the redhead leaning against a tree not far from where she had the kids gathered. She grinned and said, “I like to think he’d be understanding but we’ve both met Derek.”

          A laugh fell from Lydia’s peach-coloured lips as she moved closer to where Laura was sitting. Laura ignored the way her heart skipped at the sound and turned to get her paints ready for the next kid. She dipped the brushes in some water and wiped them off on paper towels, while Lydia settled near her.

          “What are you doing here anyway?” Laura finally asked, unable to handle the tense feeling that came with having someone you were interested in near you. When Laura looked at her, the younger girl was actually blushing, something that Laura had been convinced Lydia couldn’t do.

          “I came to see what everyone was up to,” Lydia answered, rubbing at a spot just below her nose.

          “Right, because you just happened to forget about the annual camping trip,” Laura laughed.

          “Fine,” Lydia snapped. “Maybe I came to see what one particular person was up to.”

 

 

          “You’re going the wrong way,” Stiles called from the canoe’s stern and Derek glared over his shoulder.

          “I know where I’m going, Stiles. Don’t be such a backseat rower.”

          Derek could feel the weight of Stiles’ stare on his back as the teen clucked his tongue loudly.

          “Maybe,” Stiles began, his paddle slicing through the water with ease. “I wouldn’t to be such a backseat rower if you were better at steering. We’ve been going around in circles for days.”

          Rolling his eyes, Derek grunted and paddled harder. “We’ve only be out here for an hour or so. It’s not even dark yet.”

          “Still,” Stiles whined. “We’re lost.”

          “We’re not lost. You’re reading the map wrong,” Derek said, squinting as he tried to adjust to the way the sky had dimmed. The evening sun hid behind a cluster of grey, swelling clouds.

          Derek heard an affronted gasp before the canoe started to sway.

          “Jesus, Derek. Steer to the left. It says right here,” he hissed, shoving at Derek as he waved the map in front of him.

          Derek tried to snatch the map from Stiles, only to fall backwards and jerk the canoe to the side. A whimper escaped Stiles as he tried to squirm out from beneath him, nearly launching the hilt of his paddle at the back of Derek’s head.

          “Heh,” he flushed. “Whoops?”

          “Get back to your side of the canoe before you tip us over.”

          Stiles choked out a nervous laugh and nodded his head vigorously before pushing away, their legs finally untangling. Derek sighed in relief as the canoe stopped wobbling.

          Outstretching his hand, Derek raised his eyebrows at Stiles. “The map, Stiles. Where is it?”

          “Nope. No way. I’m supposed to navigate, you steer. That was the deal.”

          “Well you’ve apparently been navigating us in circles so we’re negotiating,” he sighed, unimpressed as Stiles leapt from his seat again.

          “Hey I-,” Stiles shouted, cutting himself off as the canoe jolted forward. He slumped back down and crossed his arms in irritation. “What? So it’s my fault now?” he said, lowering his voice to a mutter.

          “I’m not saying that. Just that if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in singing Bohemian Rhapsody when you were supposed to be telling me which route to take, we wouldn’t still be here.”

          “That song is a classic,” Stiles argued, jutting his chin out as Derek shook his head in disbelief.

          “Had you not insisted on playing I spy-,” Derek continued.

          “You’re just mad because you suck at it. ‘I spy someone who is hot like burning’ is a near dead giveaway.”

          “Fine. I spy someone who doesn’t know how to use a map.”

          Stiles made a noise of annoyance at the smug smile he was sure he’d find Derek wearing if he were to turn around.

          “Oh really? Because I spy a man-child who totally wants to get with this,” Stiles said, gesturing to himself even though Derek wasn’t looking. “But is ignoring his feelings because he’s emotionally constipated. It’s you, by the way. In case you didn’t catch that.”

          The canoe went silent for a while and Derek slowed his paddles. Stiles’ stomach clenched at the thought of having struck a nerve so he leaned forward, heaving a loud sigh as he dangled the map behind Derek. “Fine then, take your stupid map.”

          “Stiles I-,” Derek rasped, his eyes turning soft and pleading for a moment before whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the wind sweeping up the map from where it’d be dangling in between Stiles’ fingers. They watched with mutual horror as it sank down into the murky water of the lake.

          “Oh my god, we’re going to be stranded on this canoe forever,” Stiles whispered to himself, sinking lower in his seat as he accepted his fate.

          “Stiles.”

          “I’m going to die a virgin.”

          “Stiles.”

          “And at sea. Derek, we’re gonna die of scurvy.”

          “For god sakes,” Derek growled under his breath, Stiles’ head snapping up in attention. “We’re not going to die. The shore is over there. We’ll just have to set up camp around here for now.”

          “That’s,” Stiles nodded numbly. “Oh.”

          Derek smirked as he looked out towards where the muddy waves were slapping against the shore. “Yeah, oh.”

          Together, they rowed until the canoe was close enough to the shore for Derek to hop out, water encircling his ankles. He pulled the canoe, with Stiles still inside of it, until the bow rested in the sand. Stiles knew that Derek was strong but - just wow. He forced himself to stop gaping and collected what he could from the canoe. As he did this, Derek worked to secure a lining rope from the painter’s ring on the bow to the base of a thick tree.

          When he finished, Derek came to stand next to Stiles.

          “We should probably put up our tents,” Stiles commented, pointing toward the sky. The clouds were thicker now, filling the sky as far as Derek could see, and dark as night. “Unless you’re in the mood to be completely drenched. For the record, I’m definitely not.”

          He squatted down and started detaching his tent from his backpack.

          Derek looked at his bag and groaned when he realized the place where his tent went was empty. “I don’t have my tent.”

          “You forgot - of course you did.” Stiles cursed under his breath.

          “Did you at least remember to bring your sleeping bag?”

          Derek didn’t have to speak - the way his skin flushed red was answer enough.

          “You can’t be serious.”

          “I didn’t forget,” he protested. “Cora has them.”

          “Right. I almost forgot this,” Stiles sighed, gesturing between them, “wasn’t part of the plan. I guess we’ll share.”

          Stiles pulled a face as Derek crouched down beside him.

          “Step away from the tent, dude. These are sharp and spear-like,” Stiles teased as he raised one of the poles. “And this material could be flammable. I’m not sure if I should be more worried for you or the tent.”

          “I’m not going to burn down the tent, Stiles.”

          Stiles raised his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing as he examined Derek slowly. “You sure? Instructions warn to keep away from children until fully assembled."

          Ignoring him, Derek reached for one of the poles.

          “I think the frame is supposed to look like a dome, not like…well, that,” Stiles grunted.

          Derek looked up to see that the half of the tent he’d been working on looked disfigured and deflated. One of the corners collapsed. He cursed under his breath.

          “Der?”

          “Don’t. I got this,” he said as he hastily tried to fix the frame but the fabric kept caving in.

          “You don’t got this,” Stiles laughed softly after his fourth try. “Here, let me.” His hands slid over Derek’s. Derek’s breath hitched as he slid the poles into Stiles’ palms.

          He watched, entranced as Stiles reassembled the tent within moments before staking down each of the edges.

          “There,” he announced proudly, stepping away to admire his work. “Now we just need to put the cover on. It’s a little lopsided but it’ll do.” He turned and faced Derek, his smug grin shriveling to a thin line when he noticed Derek’s expression. “What?”

          “Nothing.”

          “I call bullshit. What is it?”

          “Nothing, I just wish you were equally as skilled with a map. Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten lost.”

          Stiles’ eyes hardened.

          “Oh I’m sorry, does the guy who steered the canoe to the middle of nowhere have anything to contribute? Do you really want to play the blame game right now?”

          Derek looked away, giving the tent a pained look as he avoided Stiles’ gaze. “I’m not, I’m just…”

          “Just what, Derek? Need I remind you, I’m the only one with a sleeping bag or a freaking tent right now?”

          “Yeah, I got that part,” Derek choked, still evading Stiles’ face.

          “Oh my god, is the thought of spending the night in close proximity to me really that repulsive to you?”

          “No, that’s not it.”

          “Christ, that’s it, isn’t it? I don’t snore, okay? Scott swears on it,” Stiles huffed, his chest heaving and his face turning red and splotchy. “So you’re just going to have to put up with me for the night because I’m not letting you sleep in the rain.”

          Derek made a noise of frustration and surged forward, intent on shutting Stiles up in the only way he could think of. Instead, his forehead collided with Stiles’, which caused the smaller man to yelp and crash to the ground. His lips, the very ones that Derek had meant to capture with his own, were parted in shock as he stared up at Derek.

          “Did you… Did you just head butt me?!” Stiles cried in disbelief.

          “What? No!”

          “So I imagined it then?” Stiles snapped, frowning as he gingerly pressed fingertips to his forehead. He winced and Derek’s heart fell.

          “I was trying to…” He stopped and instead, bent down to pick Stiles’ pack up and start removing the sleeping bag from it.

          “Trying to what?” Stiles asked, his voice suddenly soft. When Derek shook his head and grumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘nothing’, Stiles groaned and tried again. “Trying to what?”

          Before Derek could try to come up with some excuse that would most likely be so lame Stiles would roll his eyes, there was an intense cracking sound from above and then rain came pouring down. It was so thunderous as it pounded down on the trees and their tent that Derek almost couldn’t hear it when Stiles yelped and jumped up from his spot on the ground. He shook his head in disbelief as he watched Stiles dive into the open flap of the tent but a smile played on his lips. It was a good thing his sisters weren’t around because they would never let him live down the way he looked after Stiles fondly.

          The sky rumbled in warning and Derek hustled into their tent, making sure to zip it up behind him.

 

 

          The tent wasn’t big enough for both of them. At least not while they were trying ridiculously hard to keep their distance. On one side, Stiles was curled away from Derek, hands tucked under his pillow as he glared at the red nylon wall. On the other, Derek was laying on his back and staring at the roof.

          “Were you trying to kiss me?” Stiles asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rain hitting the cover they had put up together.

          Derek sighed. “Yes.”

          He heard the sleeping bag being shuffled, briefly felt Stiles’ foot touch his leg. Despite the dim light, when he turned his head to look, he could see that Stiles was watching him. He froze under Stiles’ scrutiny, even as a warmth filled his chest.

          “You should try again,” Stiles told him.

          “Yeah?” He breathed.

          Stiles nodded and unconsciously wet his lips in eagerness. Derek lifted up on his elbow and, as soon as Stiles’ eyes slid shut, ducked down until their lips were barely touching.

          “Please,” Stiles whimpered. The tickle of his breath against Derek’s mouth caused him to shiver.

          Derek made a sound in the back of his throat, captured Stiles’ bottom lip with his mouth.  Stiles’ head was spinning and all he could think about was Derek’s open hand resting low on his stomach. Derek’s tongue sliding across the line of his mouth. The scrape of his facial hair against Stiles’ cheeks and chin.

          The fabric of Derek’s shirt was soft as Stiles twisted it in his fist, used the grip he had to pull Derek closer. Even like this, Stiles was the same as always: frantic, eager, perfect. Derek smiled against Stiles’ shoulder as he peppered the boy with kisses, listening to Stiles pant as he slid his hand up Stiles’ thigh.

          “Thought about this all summer,” he rasped against Derek’s mouth.

          “Being stranded in a tent during an almost monsoon?” Derek asked, pulling away. There was a smirk on his lips and Stiles had to roll his eyes at that. Derek obviously thought he was hilarious.

          “Shut up,” Stiles hissed and then pulled Derek into an almost bruising kiss.

          Their teeth clacked and for a second, Derek was certain he tasted blood on his tongue. He honestly couldn’t have cared less. Not when Stiles was slipping his hand under the hem of his shirt and brushing his fingertips up the curve of his back. And especially not when Stiles was hitching his leg up over Derek and pressing his erection against the divet where Derek’s pelvis and thigh met.

          Derek's lips parted around a groan, allowing Stiles to maneuver his tongue in a way that had his legs shaking and hips stuttering.

          "Sorry," Stiles breathed, barely pulling back.

          "Don't be," Derek told him, voice weighed down by his need for Stiles. Passionate and sarcastic Stiles who had tortured him all summer just by being himself. He dropped another kiss on Stiles’ lips before pulling away completely. Stiles made a sound of protest and reached for him but when Derek’s hand came to rest on where his erection was straining against the material of his shorts, he made a different kind of sound all together. “Let me take care of you.”

          After that, it was easy enough to get Stiles to lift his hips, tug his shorts down his hips.

          “I can’t believe this is happening,” Stiles gasped against his mouth, breath hot and lips wet. He tilted his head back, groaning when Derek twisted his wrist and flicked the pad of his thumb across the head of his cock. "Can't believe."

          "Do you ever stop talking?" Derek laughed against Stiles' cheek. He pressed a line of kisses against his skin until he could catch Stiles’ earlobe between his teeth, stroked Stiles’ cock long and hard.

          "Oh my god," Stiles panted, fucking up into the tight circle of Derek’s fist. His thighs were shaking, his body overwhelmed with how badly he wanted. Wanted anything and everything that Derek was willing to give. When he laughed, it came out in a wheeze. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

          Instead of replying, Derek kissed Stiles again. His mouth was a gentle press against the younger man’s lips, warm and sweet. Stiles’ head was reeling, hands shaking as he grasped the front of Derek’s shirt and pulled him closer.

          “Derek,” Stiles whined. “Please.”

          “Shh, I got you.” Derek ducked down to lick and pinch at Stiles’ nipples.

          Stiles thrusted his hips impatiently, arching his back and spreading his legs in search of friction as he glared at Derek. “Touch me. Derek. Oh my-”

          “Demanding,” Derek tutted. He relented, tugging faster as he jerked Stiles through it until Stiles was clutching desperately at his shoulders.

          With a grin on his lips, he swirled his tongue around the head of Stiles’ cock before sucking him down. Stiles came with a yelp, pulling away sluggishly as he spilled into Derek’s hand.

          “Oh,” Stiles sighed, burying his head in the crook of Derek’s shoulder. “That was- wow.”

          “Eloquent,” Derek huffed as Stiles slipped a hand between them.

          “Asshole.” Stiles slicked his hand with his own release and wrapped his fist around Derek where he was already flushed hard and leaking. He didn’t conceal his smugness about the fact Derek was already panting, making these choked-off groans that meant he was close.

          “Oh my god Stiles,” Derek sobbed, bucking his hips as Stiles sucked bruising kisses into his neck.

          He bit his lip as he came between them.

          “S’awesome,” Stiles hummed. “Knew it would be. Knew it.”

          Derek grimaced at the sticky mess they’d made. “We should maybe-”

          “Cuddle?” Stiles suggested as he slid into Derek’s lap and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Dibs on little spoon.”

          Derek grinned as he ran his hands through Stiles hair.

          “I was going to say ‘clean up,’ actually. We shouldn’t let this dry,” Derek said, gesturing between them.

          “Okay, okay,” Stiles yawned. “You’re killing my afterglow, dude.”

          Even as he said it, his eyes grew heavy and his body went lax in Derek’s arms. Nuzzling his head against Derek’s shoulder, Stiles let the sound of the drizzling rain lull him to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while, right? Yeah, we know. And we're incredibly sorry. The wait for the next chapter should be much shorter.
> 
> Follow us on Tumblr, [Tes](http://www.theminorarcana.tumblr.com/) & [Amber](http://www.montystilinski.tumbr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [Tes](http://www.softywolf.tumblr.com) and [Amber](http://www.ladybanshie.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


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